


Something Just Like This

by whimsicalwombat



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Episodic Fic, F/M, Hiatus Project, The rest of them will all be there in the background, the long awaited Homebound style S5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-05-08 05:12:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14687199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicalwombat/pseuds/whimsicalwombat
Summary: After all the years of longing, Samar and Aram's relationship finally takes that first step forward. They have no idea where the journey will take them, but they don't care. They have each other, and that's all that matters.Samar and Aram's journey through Season 5; pre-eps, post-eps, missing scenes, and so on. Each chapter is based on an episode of the season, with a few others thrown in to cover the ten month time jump. For those of you that readHomeboundback in the day, this is like the Season 5 version of that.





	1. Catching Their Breath

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go; the long awaited _Homebound_ -style Season 5 fic! I have been waiting for this hiatus project since the beginning of the season! It's so named for the Coldplay song, which has been my absolute, number one Saram song ever since it first came out. If you're not familiar with it, check out the lyric video for it on Youtube. :) 
> 
> I'm not sure how I'm going to go with having two fics-in-progress at the same time. _Reset_ is the one I'm trying to keep as a more routinely updated thing at the moment, while this one is more my fun thing to entertain myself for the hiatus, so it's probably going to be more of a casual thing. I'll update this one as I happen to write each chapter and hopefully it'll work out semi-regular. 
> 
> Anyway. It'll figure itself out as my fics always do. If there are any missing scenes or bits of episodes you'd particularly like me to cover, feel free to comment here or drop them in my tumblr ask box and I'll see what I can work in. I have a couple there already that I've been holding onto –even one since episode 5x04! 
> 
> And of course, most importantly, enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5x01 pre-ep/missing scene
> 
> Shoutout to [this anon](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/173277935896/heyyyy-just-wondering-if-you-would-ever-do-a-one), who asked for a one shot showing what happened with Aram and Samar after the Season 4 finale. This is the early morning right before 5x01, which picked up straight after the end of Season 4, so I hope that covers it! :)

It was Aram who woke first. Maybe it was the first flicker of sunlight peeking its way between the curtains or the noises of the first cars of the morning starting to drive past the window, or perhaps it was simply that sense of alertness that went with sleeping at someone else's apartment for the first time, that caused Aram to begin to stir. Either way, he rolled over in the bedcovers still tangled from the night before, staring blankly across the bed as his eyes flickered open, waiting for his brain to catch up.  

His sleep blurred vision began to clear, prompting a sleepy smile to slowly etch its way across his face. Beside him, Samar was still sound asleep. Curled up on her side, facing him, so close to the centre of the bed that she was very nearly on top of him, she slept on. Her finger tips outstretched just enough in her slumber to graze softly across his waist, and that hint of light peeking in left a soft glow across her golden brown shoulders left bare by the tangled covers... But it was neither the contact nor the memory of the night before that had the smile on Aram's face. Rather, it was the way she looked so peaceful as she slept; her whole body was relaxed rather than tensed with her usual, on the clock alertness, and her sleep mussed curls splayed across her face, with a tiny smile of her own just peeking through.  

Aram had always thought she was beautiful but right there, sound asleep and utterly content beside him, she seemed even more beautiful than he had ever seen her before.  

Everything about it seemed like a dream. From the moment he had kissed her -and she had let him-  for the first time in the war room the evening before, to the way that she had then wordlessly taken his hand and led him back to her place, and then of course to everything that had happened between then and the present moment. Aram was waiting for the moment that something snapped in his brain and he woke up, disappointed to find that none of it was real... Except it was.  

Aram reached across, her face barely inches from his across the pillows, softly brushing those loose strands of hair back off her face and behind her ear, and Samar began to stir. The smile on her face widened a little more, even before her eyes fluttered open.

'Morning,' Samar mumbled softly into the pillow -though Aram still understood. She shuffled ever so slightly across the bed, just enough to close the gap between them so that her nose brushed against his. Her hand swept up along his side from his waist, the other one coming to rest beside it on his chest, and she allowed her eyes to fall softly closed once more; it was early. She wasn't ready to wake up just yet. She was all too happy just lying there, curled into him and enjoying that warmth and quiet closeness. Aram's arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close to him, and Samar let out a deep sigh of contentment as he then buried his face in her hair, pressing a slow kiss there in response.

That was perfect. Right there, just like that, was all she wanted.  

They laid there like that for another few minutes or so, until Samar's brain registered that she was awake and remembered it was a weekday; no matter how comfortable they were, they still had to get up and go to work -and preferably before they ended up running so late that Cooper thought to mention it. She opened her eyes again just for a moment, now running that hand up further still until it traced the edge of his jawline, pulling him to her. Her lips searched for his, landing a soft kiss there, and Aram took it gladly, but Samar didn't stop. She opened her mouth a little more, letting him in deeper. Her arms wrapped around him just as his were already around her, desperate for him to be closer still. They rolled until Aram was just about on top of her, the covers slipping further back while they remained entwined, neither of them wanting to let go. Aram broke away from Samar's lips, trailing a line of soft kisses down her jawline and onwards further still until he was buried in her neck. Samar's head rolled back against the pillow, letting out a moan of intense satisfaction under her breath... Until Aram suddenly stopped.  

'What?' Samar gasped. She stared up at him, puzzled at the unexpected -and frankly, disappointing- pause. Aram swallowed, catching his breath.    
'Just, uh, we should probably make sure we're on the same page,' he said quickly. He bit his lip, his eyes wide with an anxious combination of utter adoration and cautiousness. 'Last night, for you...' Aram began again, slower and more hesitant this time; 'that wasn't just a one time thing, was it?' He paused again, studying the expression on Samar's face for some kind of clue, but she remained deliberately neutral. 'Not that there's anything wrong with one time things,' Aram hurriedly went on, 'just, uh, you know, it would be awkward if we both thought it was something different and then there was a whole miscommunicati-' Samar broke into a grin, instantly leaning in to kiss him again, and effectively bringing an end to his breathless, anxious rambling.    
'Not just a one time thing,' she replied softly, as she broke away again. Aram simply stared for a moment, processing that. Then he broke into a grin of his own. Samar gave an amused shake of her head, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair before pulling him back in once more -or at least, trying to. Still, Aram held her close, not at all stopping her from creeping her hands down his back, though his lips didn't follow suit.   
'If we keep going, we're going to be late for work,' he murmured in her ear. The expression on his face turned sheepish, just as Samar's became one of disgruntlement; neither of them wanted to stop but the reality was that they had to -and they both knew it.    
'We could share the shower,' she whispered back. Her voice was low and seductive, and her eyes quickly crinkled with a knowing mischief that drove Aram wild, 'saves time _and_ water.' Not a word needed to be said in response; Aram leaned back, giving her the space to slip out from under him and then out of bed. Samar reached for his hand, throwing that flirtatious smile back over her shoulder at him as she led him along after her.  

/*/*/*/*

She couldn't keep her hands off him.

Not that Aram didn't enjoy it, if he was being honest with himself. In fact, he enjoyed it a _lot._  

Though, perhaps in the elevator, just as the doors were opening to the war room where Ressler was standing right there, waiting for them, was a little awkward just as much as it was enjoyable. There was the newness of it all, the sheer joy and relief that _finally,_ after all the longing and all the tension, they had each other... There was the thrill and the lust that went hand in hand with all that and frankly, Aram wasn't entirely sure he wanted to keep his hands off Samar either.

They had stopped back at his place on the way to work just so that he could change his clothes, and despite having already _tried_ to save time in the shower earlier, Samar hadn't been able to resist following him upstairs and teasing him while he changed either... Nor had she been able to resist grabbing a hold of him by the tie in those few seconds they had alone in the elevator either, apparently.  

For a split second, Aram worried that he would never quite be able to keep up with her.  

And then of course, the elevator doors opened, and all that thrill and enjoyment went flying out the window faster than he could blink because Ressler was standing right there, and they needed to keep a lid on things.  

And they were _still_ late for work, after all.

Somehow, Samar had the uncanny ability to be all over him one minute, and back to cool, calm and professional the next minute as if nothing had changed. How she did it, Aram couldn't figure out, though he guessed it had something to do with Mossad's extensive undercover training... But while she seemed to transition seamlessly back into steely-faced, door-kicking, special agent mode, he was still struggling to catch his breath.  

Cooper's revelation that Reddington was Liz's father, and that the newly sworn in FBI Director was ordering a Bureau-wide review of all special operations, did little to help ease his nerves. Questions of undisclosed relationships suddenly felt overwhelming and there they were, starting something new right as all their lives were about to be put under a microscope. Cooper preferred to come down on the side of transparency, but then the next thing Aram knew; Liz was off on a bounty hunt with Reddington, and Samar and Ressler were called out to the crime scene at Hitchin's house. Aram was left alone at his desk, still trying to figure out; _what on earth had they got themselves into?_

With the day's caseload, and Samar in and out of the field all day, they barely had a chance to speak to each other again until the end of the day.  

That was when the fingertips creeping gently over his shoulder, made Aram jump. He swivelled in his chair, his attention instantly broken from his screen, to see Samar standing there. She was back again, and she had managed to stroll back into the war room without him even noticing.  

'Hey,' she greeted him. She glanced back over her shoulder for a second to check that nobody was listening in, and then her eyes crinkled with a knowing mischief not unlike earlier in the day. 'Want to get dinner?'  
'Sure,' he murmured back, breaking into a grin, 'that sounds nice.' There was a soft smirk on Samar's face, and Aram knew she was thinking exactly the same thing he was. Despite all that had happened the night before, this would be their first dinner out as a couple... Or at least, it would be the first time they went out to _pick up_ dinner as a couple. It wasn't exactly a huge milestone in that sense, though it was certainly different to the dinner they'd had the night before.

_ That _ particular dinner had been more of an afterthought. Well over an hour after they had arrived back at her apartment, with him in his boxers and her wrapped in the shirt she had already stolen from him, the lull in their blissful, half-asleep pillow conversation had actually been substantial enough for them both to notice the grumbling protest from their bellies… And so reluctantly they dragged themselves out of bed and towards the kitchen. Then it had simply been a matter of digging the leftover pizza box back out of Samar's fridge, carrying it back to the couch, and curling up around each other again.  

That was certainly a nice enough version of dinner, but it was far from the _only_ nice way to do dinner.  

Aram made quick work of shutting down his workstation. He pulled his backpack out from under his desk and slipped it over his shoulder, but the uncertainties swirling around in the back of his brain quickly returned to the forefront as he scuttled across the room, catching up to her at the elevator.  

Samar glanced at him when he returned to her side, eyeing the look of apprehension on his face.

'What's bothering you?' She asked quietly. Aram blinked. He wondered how she knew there was something on his mind, but he quickly shook it off. Samar always knew. Her fingertips brushed against the edge of his jacket sleeve, softly but deliberately requesting an answer.  

'The Special Operations Review,' Aram replied. His brow furrowed as those heavy elevator doors rumbled closed behind them. 'Bureau agents aren't supposed to be in relationships with each other, but if that review looks too close, they're going to find out about us.' He held Samar's gaze for a moment; she seemed startlingly unfazed by the notion. If anything, her lip quirked up with that smirk again.    
'Technically, I'm not an FBI agent,' she mused back, waggling her brow. Aram tilted his head, shooting her that look of gentle skepticism, that instantly prompted a sigh of mild exasperation from her. While technically true, the fact that she was a Mossad agent who was simply on loan to the Bureau taskforce, wasn't going to fly with the higher ups and grant them any kind of exception to the rule. 'You want to tell Cooper,' she spoke again; not a question, but an observation. Aram shifted uneasily on his feet.    
'Not if, uh,' he quickly began, 'you really don't want to-' he bit his lip '-but it's probably better to put our cards on the table first instead of being found out, right?'

A soft smile etched its way across Samar's face and reached towards him, sliding her arms over his shoulders and pulling him in close.  

'I'm not ashamed of what we're doing, Aram,' she said softly, 'not screaming it from the rooftops gives us a certain element of professionalism, but it's not a secret either.' The smile remained on her face, but there was a sense of calm and earnestness about it, that relaxed the tension in Aram's shoulders in an instant. 'If you really want him to know, I don't mind if you tell him.' She leaned in, her forehead resting against his for a moment before she pressed a slow kiss to his lips and this time, Aram didn't even try to stop her.  

That. Something just like that. That was exactly what he wanted.

Now he just had to find the courage to tell Cooper.  

Aram swept the few loose strands of hair back off Samar's face, tucking them behind her ear. She smiled, leaning in close to his side for the last second or two before the elevator doors opened again into the car park in the basement. Aram wound one arm around her, dotting another quick kiss to the top of her head.

Talking to Cooper could wait until tomorrow.


	2. Pizza and Aram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5x02 missing scenes.
> 
> Yikes, this one was a tricky one to write considering Samar and Aram spent most of the episode on different continents, but I think it worked out ok?
> 
> Anyway. Enjoy!

Aram had gone with her. Between setting up the profile for her undercover identity and attending the auction itself, all they could really do was wait and kill the time before their plan to sneak Reddington in to meet Blaise was fully underway. That said, they knew it was going to be a late night –essentially, they would be working the whole night through- so taking the daylight hours as their time at home instead, worked out well. It had been an easy decision to make –so easy, in fact, Samar could barely remember which of them had been the first to suggest it- but from taking the rare opportunity to get lunch together, they had stuck together and Aram had gone home with Samar while she finally got ready for her, Liz, and Ressler's night out at the auction.  

There was nothing really that Aram could help her with, but as he chatted while Samar did her hair, her makeup, and then finally slipped on her dress, there was something altogether pleasant about simply enjoying the other's nearby presence.  

And then once again, their relaxed, off the clock demeanours faded away, and after a brief moment of Aram needing to unfluster himself from the awe of how gorgeous Samar looked, their on the clock, steely eyed gazes returned. They made their way back to the Post Office where Samar finalised the entry plan with the rest of the team, and Aram booted up his computers again, ready to manage the entire operation with Cooper from his desk.  

Changing up the hours had been fun, but neither of them expected it to continue once their long night was over.  

Aram went home with Samar once again, but not to sleep as the dark, tired rings around his eyes had hoped. She had all of two hours to change, pull her go-bag together, and head out to the airport where the Bureau's jet was already waiting to take her and Ressler on the eight hour flight to Paris to retrieve the painting that Reddington had deemed so crucial in his latest escapade.  

'You know when I sent that photo to you,' her musing voice floated back to him from the wardrobe, 'it was for  _ you-' _ Samar poked her head back out of the wardrobe, the rest of her following a second later with a couple of fresh shirts '-personally.' Her lip quirked up with a smirk of wry amusement as she crossed the room back to him, tucking the last of the shirts into her go-bag perched next to Aram on the edge of the bed, and then closing it up. Aram's lips pursed together with a guilty grin, instantly remembering the photo of her that he had attached to the undercover identity she used at the auction. There was nothing  _ revealing _ about it that needed to be kept hidden from the rest of the team, though it had never been taken with the express purpose of public viewing. It was from a few days earlier –a quick snap Samar had taken after trying something different with her hair, that she had sent to him to ask what he thought.  

Aram, of course, loved it, not that that reaction really came as a surprise to anyone.  

'I know,' he began, 'I just...' Aram trailed off for a moment, shifting awkwardly where he sat while he tried to find the right words; 'I needed a photo of you for the profile, and... I liked that one.' Samar shook her head with a hint of mock exasperation and she turned her back to him.  
'Unzip me?' She asked. Her heels had already come off the second they had walked through the front door –with Samar scowling for a split second at how uncomfortable they were- and her carefully styled hair had already been looped back into the usual, far more relaxed, loose pony tail. Now that her bag was packed too, all that remained was switching her cocktail dress for clothes that were more comfortable for flying in. Aram rose to his feet, reaching for the zip and pulling it gently down exactly as asked. Then he lingered there, close to her, his hands coming to rest around her waist as he tilted his head, dotting a slow kiss to her now bare shoulder. Samar leaned back against him, enjoying that contact for a moment before turning on the spot yet again. As much as she wished otherwise, she had no time to stay there in his arms. Still though, she stayed close, holding Aram's gaze as his sleepy smile morphed into a look of contemplation.  

'What?' Samar asked again, quieter this time. Aram hesitated for a moment before responding. In the grand week and a half total since their first night together, they had barely spent more than twelve hours apart at a time. Between the excited, early phase of their new relationship that had them barely wanting to let go of one another, and the demands of their hectic work schedule; even if they had only spent every  _ other _ night in the same apartment in the last ten days, that time between finishing work late and starting early again the next morning meant that their time apart was next to nothing at all.  

...And at absolute most, the distance between them was only distance from one side of DC to the other while Samar was in the field and Aram in the war room.  

Now, out of nowhere, she was heading for an eight hour flight bound for an entirely different continent, where she would stay for at least two full days.  

Aram knew Samar made short trips out of the country and back on a regular enough basis with Mossad, and often quietly enough that half the time, he didn't even know she had left until she came home again –if he ever found out at all... But this was different. Now, they were together, and the idea of potentially losing her felt all the more paralysing –and even if he knew this particular trip would be far from the most dangerous scenarios Samar had ever gone running into, as far as Aram was concerned, this first time she went away since their relationship began wasn't unlike the anxious split second of knowing a band aid was about to be ripped off, but to a far greater scale. 

'You're, uh...' Aram spoke again, though the words still couldn't help but catch in his throat; 'going to be careful, right?' Samar made quick work of slipping out of her dress, grasping the fresh shirt from the separate pile of clothes at the end of the bed, and pulling it over her head... But she paused before moving on to her jeans, resting a gentle hand against Aram's cheek and pressing a quick, reassuring kiss to his lips.    
'We're taking a painting from an elderly woman, and delivering it from Paris to a party in Lake Como,' she murmured back to him, 'I think we'll be fine.' 

/*/*/*/* 

Samar leaned back in the hard, plastic, chair of one of the many airport cafes. How she was back in an airport again so soon, she almost didn't know. The last day and half or so felt like a blur in her mind. She had flown from Dulles to Paris Charles de Gaulle, gone straight to break in to an elderly woman's apartment, failed to retrieve what they were after, and now she was back at the airport all over again, but it still wasn't for a flight home. Now she and Ressler were onto the next leg of their journey; the short flight from Paris to Milan Malpensa, where they would pick up a car from one of the Bureau's handful of small, overseas offices, and then drive another couple of hours onwards to meet Reddington and Liz in Lake Como –stopping of course, to pick up the back up, forged painting on the way.  

It felt as if she had been glued to Ressler's side from the moment they had stepped onto the plane in DC, and it wasn't about to end anytime soon. Everything was moving so fast, and had to be timed so perfectly to fit together, that their sole time apart had been to nap for a couple of hours between leaving the old woman's house and then heading for the airport again, but even then they had still been in neighbouring hotel rooms. Now, waiting at the airport for their latest flight to board, felt as if it was the only time they could take a real break from one another.  

And if the way Ressler had taken all of a nanosecond to dart away from her and head for the 'bathroom' after they checked in and passed through security was supposed to be any indication, he felt much the same.  

There was no offense intended, and they both knew it... But despite the respect that they had for each other as partners, they also needed space from each other to breathe. And so, with their own backpacks and boarding passes in hand, they had split up, making their own way through bathrooms, cafes, and airport shops, knowing that they would see each other again at the gate.  

The coffee and pastry that Samar had ordered, suddenly landed on the table in front of her. An almost groan escaped her as she took the first bite, savouring it.  _ Real food, at last. _ In the last twenty four hours, all she had eaten was canapes at the auction, plane food, a couple of snacks bought on the go while traversing the streets of Paris, and one hotel breakfast eaten on the fly. Sure, a pastry wasn't a full meal either, but it was  _ so _ unbelievably nice to actually sit down and eat something fresh, and slowly. Samar pulled her phone from her pocket; she flicked through the headlines for a minute or two, but took few of them in. She flicked to her contacts list, one finger hovering over Aram's name right there at the top. 

That was the real reason she had pulled out her phone, and no amount of stalling with the headlines was ever going to change that.  

Samar hit the dial button, and lifted the phone to her ear. 

Aram picked up in an instant. 

'Hey,' he softly greeted her. Samar could practically hear the smile etching its way across his face through the phone and  _ that, _ after the whirlwind rush of the last couple of days, just the sound of his voice was enough to make the world feel as if it suddenly went still around her again –or at least, for a moment. 'I wasn't sure when I'd hear from you.'   
'We're at the airport, just waiting for our next flight,' she murmured back, 'how's the war room?' There was a pause before Aram responded.    
'Quiet,' he finally spoke again, 'without you, and Agents Keen and Ressler, and with Director Cooper upstairs in his office. It feels kind of empty, actually.' Samar could hear the hesitation in his voice, and could read between the lines even easier. She knew exactly what Aram meant, but the sheer level of newness in their relationship had him reluctant to say it out loud.  

He missed her. 

A soft smile lit Samar's face as she sipped at her coffee, quietly listening to Aram continuing on with his recap of everything that was happening in the war room, half a world away. 

She missed him too. 

/*/*/*/* 

Aram paced back and forth across his living room. Between waiting for his pizza to be delivered, and waiting for Samar's call to say that her flight home had landed –the latter of which, should have happened already, but  _ hadn't- _ Aram found himself restless.  

And then the knock on the door sounded. 

Aram practically lurched towards the door. He had already done everything else he had to do when he got home from work so there was nothing left to distract him from the anxious wait for Samar's return but dinner, at least, might take the edge off. He opened the door in an instant, then did a double take at the sight of the face behind it. 

Not the usual pizza delivery guy... But Samar.  

Aram blinked. It took a second for his brain to register what that meant, but then he broke into a wide smile. She hadn't called or texted to say that her flight had landed and she was on her way back to her own apartment. She had jumped in the car and driven straight to his place instead. Dark, tired rings sat heavy under her eyes, and her pony tail seemed to be wonky and half-undone from the attempt at sleeping in airplane seats... But Aram didn't care. Samar was  _ home, _ and all he felt was overwhelmingly glad to see her again. He wrapped his arms around her, and Samar sank into them gladly. There was no need for 'hello', 'how are you' or any other such greeting. She allowed her tired eyes to fall softly closed against his shoulder, both of them letting out a collective, deep breath of relief.  

As much as she enjoyed the wild ride of working in the field, she was exhausted from the whirlwind of the last couple of days, and it was  _ always _ nice to come home again.  

They stood there like that for a moment, relishing the fact that this time, there were no time pressures daring to separate them. It was quiet, but peaceful... Until a loud rumble echoed between them. Samar glanced up from Aram's shoulder, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation at her stomach and the way Aram was struggling to stifle a laugh. Still, she hadn't eaten a decent meal; after the pastry, all it had been was plane food all over again.    
'Apparently I'm starving,' she said drolly. Aram pulled her in closer still, his eyes crinkling at the low growls still rumbling quietly from her gut.    
'I ordered pizza,' he mused back, 'it should be here any minute.' The smile stretched wider and wider across Samar's face. Pizza and Aram. That was exactly, and  _ all _ she needed. One hand rose to trace the soft stubble of his cheek, and Samar leaned in, pressing a slow kiss there as she replied;    
'I missed you.' 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, 5x03! :D
> 
> But ohhh the things I google for fics. Suffice to say in this case, google now thinks I'm planning a European holiday and honestly, double checking the things I remembered about certain airports has me pretty nostalgic and wanting to go travelling again. I have some great memories of all three airports in this chapter -though, as far as Paris Charles de Gaulle goes, the main thing I remember is my flight nearly being cancelled at the last minute because the snow was getting too heavy. Thankfully this episode was set in a time where that wasn't an issue, or our dynamic duo would have been separated even longer! :o


	3. It’s the Ones we Love who Keep us Grounded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5x03 missing scene/post-ep
> 
> Yikes. Sorry this one took forever to do. I was both crazy busy last weekend and I somehow ended up getting stuck somewhere in the middle of this one. But no matter, here it is now! 
> 
> Enjoy :)

It was a slower morning compared to those of their last few cases. Reddington was occupied with apartment hunting and hadn't even brought them their case until the late morning –and even then, they were still yet to see where it would take them. For the moment, Liz and Ressler were questioning Officer McGuiness and his partner, while Samar and Aram remained in the war room, waiting for further leads.  

The war room was always quiet when cases were either over or just starting to brew, but there were still things to do; statements to write, reports to finalise, and piles of pages to be pulled together and filed away.  

Samar jotted a quick signature at the bottom of her current report, then shuffled all the pages in the pile in line with one another. The manila folder that was on her desk, poised to house the pages, promptly snapped shut around them, and Samar swivelled her desk chair around, shifting her attention to Aram sitting at the desk just a few feet behind. She tilted her head, watching for an extra second or two as he tapped away at his keyboard. Aram's brow was furrowed in concentration, so much so that he was completely oblivious to her gaze.  

At last Aram glanced up, doing a double take as he turned his head to look past her, only to quickly catch her eye.  

He broke into a smile, and Samar rose from her chair, her quick strides making short work of the gap between their desks.  

'Your place or mine tonight?' She asked. The question was so casual and yet, so matter of fact at the same time. She came to a stop at the edge of his desk, the fingers of one hand coming to rest there, right on the corner. Her eyes crinkled with a good natured mischief –Aram's first sign that the question was nowhere near as casual as Samar had made it sound. He hesitated for a moment before responding, but Aram's lip quirked up all the same;   
'Are you going to buy me dinner first?' He quipped back, stifling a grin.   
'When we finish this case,' Samar began to muse. The words were slow and seductively drawn out, her voice so low that it barely escaped the flirtatious smile tugging at her lips; 'maybe.' The grin broke its way across Aram's face. She was teasing him, just as she always did. There was no maybe about it, not with that look on her face. They would get dinner together, but she wouldn’t be buying it for him, nor him for her. They were both too insistent on paying, for their own personal reasons, and would end up either splitting the bill, or balancing it somehow with one of them buying dinner and the other buying dessert afterwards.    
'My place, then,' Aram chuckled. 'A few things from your go bag are in my laundry pile-' Samar raised a single, wry eyebrow, and Aram's grin instantly faltered '-you, uh, left them last time you were there. I figured I may as well just throw them into the wash with mine, and then they'd be there for the next time you stay over.' Neither apartment was completely infused with the other's presence yet, but there was certainly a small handful of belongings just starting to be left lying around both. Samar's were far from the only things left behind; on at least one occasion so far, Aram had left some of his own at her place too. The difference was, however, that he wasn't likely to get his old shirt back any time soon... Because not only had Samar thrown it in with her laundry upon finding it on the floor, but she had also accidentally pulled it out of the clean pile afterwards and put it on while too tired to realise it wasn't hers, only to then discover that it was actually quite comfortable. 

It was soft, and worn, and as it had wrapped around her slim frame, the faint smell of Aram had reached her nostrils, instantly relaxing her.  

So, suffice to say, he was  _ not _ getting that shirt back in a hurry. 

That teasing smile etched its way back across Samar's face. 

'Ok,' she mused, 'your place it is, then.' 

/*/*/*/* 

'Ready to go?' Aram's soft voice jolted Samar from staring blankly into her locker in the corridor, where she had been digging through her bag and switching her jacket for her coat, ready to leave after another round of questioning with Officer McGuiness. Samar glanced sideways, spotting Aram ambling down the corridor towards her from the war room, smiling wide with the satisfied weariness of another case complete.    
'Uh,' she found herself instinctively responding before her brain had even managed to catch up; 'in a minute.' Samar reached into the locker again, pulling out her scarf and wrapping it loosely around her neck before pausing, biting her lip for a second. 'Actually...' She spoke up again, slower this time; 'can we have a quiet night tonight instead of going out?' Aram furrowed his brow in concern, but Samar tried not to notice, focusing her attention like a laser on the contents of her locker instead.    
'Sure, if that's what you want...' He said slowly. Aram studied the expression on her face for a moment. It was almost impossibly neutral; something he had once had difficulty figuring out but these days, he was fairly sure it meant she felt anything  _ but _ neutral; 'everything ok?'   
'Yeah, fine,' Samar murmured back, nodding quickly. 'I'm just tired.' She steadied herself for a moment, forcing herself not to give in to that look of apprehension on his face. She shot him a small, wry smile, trying to brush it off; 'I'll buy you dinner tomorrow instead, ok?'  
'Ok...' Aram warily trailed off. There was a touch of skepticism in his voice, but whatever was bothering Samar, he knew better than to push the issue. If and when she was ready to talk about what was on her mind, she would. The gap between them was barely more than a few inches but Aram reached out anyway, his fingertips making a quick, reassuring brush against the small of her back. He gave a slow nod and let out the tiniest of soft smiles; 'I'll meet you at the elevator when you're ready.'  

Samar couldn't help but let out a sigh as she watched him then wander away out of the corner of her eye, leaving her to it. Whether it was because what they had was still so new, or simply because her on mind was still mulling over the ending of their latest case, Samar didn't know... But either way, though she felt oddly unsettled by the events that had transpired, somehow it didn't feel quite right to share what was on her mind just yet.  

/*/*/*/* 

Samar awoke with a start, letting out a gasp in the attempt to catch her breath. She sat up, hurriedly glancing to her right to make sure Aram was still sound asleep beside her, drawing her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around them. She took a deep breath, and then another, forcing her adrenaline rushed heart rate to slow. 

Careful so as not to wake Aram, Samar pushed back the bedcovers and slipped out of bed. She padded softly through the darkness of his apartment, making her way into the kitchen despite the light being limited to the faint glow of the microwave clock. She didn't need any more than that limited range of vision; Samar had spent enough time in Aram's apartment now that she could make her way around with her eyes closed. Her feet knew where to take her, where the creaky floorboard was that she needed to avoid in the dead of the night, and exactly at what point to round the corner from the hallway without walking into it, just as she did in her own apartment. Samar reached into the cupboard, pulling out the tea tin from its hiding place behind the cocoa in the corner, and quietly thanking the universe for the fact that Aram's kettle was one of those oddly silent ones that could boil to their heart's content no matter what ungodly hour it was, and still never wake anyone.  

The absurdity of the situation didn't escape her. She felt so cautious about sharing her nightmares with him, that she had never breathed a word of them to him before, even though somehow he knew she had them... And  _ she _ knew that he knew. Aram only drank tea on rare occasions, but that tin of all her favourites remained hidden in the corner of his cupboard, just in case she woke up in the middle of the night and needed one to settle her churning stomach. Samar couldn't for the life of her figure out how Aram knew... But he did, and she was grateful.  

She grasped her cool hands all the way around the mug, warming them as she lifted it slowly to her nose and allowed those spirals of fresh, lightly scented steam to waft in the air around her. Slowly but surely, Samar made her way to the couch, curling her knees under her, and sipping at her tea as she stared out the living room window at the sparse spattering of stars twinkling in the pitch black sky. Just like that, the scarring images of her dream vanished from her mind. Just like that, she felt instantly more at ease.  

'Samar?' Came Aram's voice through a stifled yawn. Samar swivelled around where she was curled up at the end of the couch. It was impossible not to break into a soft smile at the sight of him stumbling around the corner from the hallway, looking for her whilst still half asleep. His pillow mussed hair stuck out in a half dozen different directions, and his robe hung open and askew on his frame from having been pulled on during his bleary-eyed ambling. He stopped in the middle of the living room like that, blinking slowly in the bid to focus his gaze as he turned on the spot, searching for her in the darkness.   
'I'll be back in a minute,' Samar quickly murmured back. Following the sound of her voice, Aram's eyes landed on her and the mug of tea in her hands, and his brow instantly furrowed in concern. He scuttled the few steps further across the room towards her, narrowly avoiding tripping over the coffee table, before coming to another stop right in front of her. Aram squeezed his eyes tightly shut and quickly opened them again; his brain was still fuzzy from having just woken up but he sat down on the couch, curling around her anyway.    
'What's wrong?' He mumbled, burying his face in her tangle of dark curls.    
'Nothing,' Samar whispered back to him, 'go back to bed.' As insistent as she was though, she couldn't help but sink into his arms, letting out a deep sigh of relief as they wrapped around her tighter still. She knew how unreasonable it was not to tell him about her dreams but somehow, despite her fingertips curling into the thick, fleecy fabric of his robe to hold him there, that unsettled feeling swirling around in her gut remained.    
'If you really don't want to talk about it-' Aram stifled another yawn '-I'm not going to push it. But whatever it is,' he softly went on, pressing a slow kiss to the top of her head; 'I'm still going to stay here with you until you feel better and you're ready to go back to bed.' 

It didn't matter how much of a struggle it was for his still half-asleep brain to process what was going on; even in that state, he could tell when something was bothering her. Before leaving the office, Aram  _ could _ have been convinced that Samar was simply tired, but now... He was certain that it was something more.  

Samar closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, internally berating herself. When it came to the people he cared about, Aram's stubbornness just about rivalled her own... And now they were at a stalemate.  

But, Aram stayed as quiet as she did. He simply held her there, his arms wrapped soft and warm around her, and his face buried in her hair. There was no pushing, no nagging, and no pressure; he was simply a comfort and slowly but surely, that unsettled feeling began to fade.  

'I had one of those dreams,' her quiet voice finally relented, breaking the silence lingering in the air between them; 'the bad ones. I know you get them too sometimes.' It took Aram a moment to respond, with the quiet stillness of simply sitting there with her having almost sent him drifting off back to sleep again.    
'About the case?' He asked softly.    
'No...' Samar leaned further and further into him, her fingers clutching just that little bit tighter at his robe without her even realising it. 'The day my parents were killed. If I have a rough day, sometimes it comes back to me.' She paused just for a second, taking the way Aram's arm seemed to tighten protectively around her again as her cue to eventually continue; 'it's nothing new. I'll be fine, I just need another minute.' There was another moment where Aram stayed quiet at first, his sleepy brain only allowing him the response of nodding contemplatively.  
'What prompted this one?' The mumbled words finally managed to string themselves together.  

Samar thought about that for a minute. Honestly, she wasn't entirely sure what the answer was. Sometimes what prompted her nightmares was obvious; seeing something horrific or having a near miss in the field that hit far too close to home, but other times... Something about a case just wouldn't sit well with her, and she couldn't always put a finger on exactly why that was. Only every so often did prompt the dreams; perhaps one night every few weeks or so on average, with the vision typically a bizarre fusion of the most recent trauma with that very first one. They always left her shaken when she first woke up, but after so many years, Samar was no stranger to the dreams. She knew that was all they were and after a few deep breaths, a lap around the apartment or a cup of tea, she could usually get back to sleep again easily enough.  

'How is it that good people-' Samar gritted her teeth again, instantly thinking back to the case and the cops like the young Officer McGuiness who had thrown their lives away by ending up somehow embroiled in murders and cover ups '-people who are so determined to bring a level of justice to the world-' she glanced up at Aram, the expression on her face contorting with disheartenment '-can be so easily convinced to do what they  _ know _ is wrong?'   
'Blackmail?' Aram suggested. His lip quirked up in thought; that was a question that had been lingering in the back of his mind as well.    
'No, not like that.' Samar shook her head... And instantly, it struck her. She knew exactly which puzzle pieces her case-weary brain had connected to leave that unsettled feeling so deep in her gut. 'My brother was never blackmailed,' she added, her voice barely audible now. 'We were raised exactly the same by our parents, and yet we ended up on such completely different paths.' Samar couldn't help but feel a certain chill run down her spine at the very thought. Once upon a time, she and Shahin had been inseparable. They had believed in the same things, been equally determined to fight for everything their parents had fought for, and then just as passionate in the quest for justice after they were silenced so violently. Yet, in the end that trauma had contorted their views of the world in entirely different ways. Shahin had become what he had become, and the supposedly good cops like Officer McGuiness had found themselves convinced that committing murder was somehow a good thing. It only served to make Samar wonder; if once upon a time they had all been as adamant as she still was about what was right and what was wrong, what was there to stop any of them, really, from ending up on that same tragic path?  

'I never want to be that kind of person.' Samar spoke again, letting out another frustrated sigh.    
'You're not,' Aram muttered back. All of a sudden there was a noticeable vehemence to his voice, no matter how drowsy he was; 'and you won't be.' He rose from the couch, gently tugging on her hand as he moved so as to prompt her to follow him back to bed. 'Come on,' he added softly. Samar let him pull her along, leaving the now empty tea mug behind on the side table. She crawled back under the covers beside him, resting her head on his chest and allowing her eyes to fall softly closed once more as his arms wound protectively around her again.  

Maybe that was the difference.  

Maybe it was the people closest, the ones that were there, who always had faith and never judged no matter what. Maybe it was their flickering light in the darkness, that would always be there to guide the way out of the tunnel.  


	4. Or Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5x04 missing scenes
> 
> Shoutout to elizabethkween (tumblr)/rories (ao3) for requesting a chapter "where samar has some lingering effects of the explosion at the hotel something something aram helps idk. they just glossed over that whole thing and i'm Mad About It. please and thank you <3"

The adrenaline rush had kept her going. She had seen the bomb in the elevator with enough time to try ducking for cover, but with far from enough time to get away to safety. The sheer force and volume of the blast had set both of her ears ringing and one of them bleeding, but Samar had no time to worry about the high likelihood of a perforated eardrum. She had wiped away the trail of blood from her right ear with the back of her hand, wiped that in turn down the side of her jeans, and pushed onwards. They had kept running. They had retrieved the princess and hidden her away in a Bureau safe house, only to then discover that it was her assistant who had been the real target.  

It wasn't until hours later, when Samar went home and finally  _ stopped, _ that the impact of the explosion suddenly seemed to hit her like a freight train.  

The passing of the adrenaline rush and the setting in of fatigue had faded away her usual, on the clock sense of alertness, allowing her damaged ear to unsteady her feet, and her brain to finally register the painful way that her muscles were also starting to seize up now that she had stopped running. Samar let out a groan as she dragged herself through the apartment towards her bedroom, and then slumped face first onto the bed.  

'Oh my god,' came her muffled words from the covers, 'everything hurts.' To Samar, even her own voice sounded alien. One ear was still ringing with a low hum that was just enough to be irritating, but could still at least hear the usual volume, while everything through her other ear –the one that had been turned closer to the blast and that had been bleeding- sounded soft and fuzzy, somewhere halfway between static and waterlogged. The combination of different sounds and volumes through both ears at once was almost disorientating, unless Samar concentrated enough to push past the confusion in whatever part of her brain was struggling to process the correlation between volume and distance. It was far from a new sensation –there was no denying that she had been witness to more than enough other explosions in her Mossad career thus far to have experienced temporary impacts to her hearing before- but no matter how many times it happened, it never ceased to throw her off balance. 

'I'm not surprised,' Aram murmured back. He stood there at the foot of the bed after having followed her into the room, now trying -and failing- to stifle an affectionate smirk at the way she had managed to starfish herself across most of the bed. He lowered himself, far gentler than she had done moments earlier, onto the sliver of space still free along the edge of the bed beside her.  

Samar turned her head on the covers, glancing sideways back at him. For all the tiredness and all the aches and pains, there was still a smile on her face. Aram rested a soft hand along her back, his fingertips gently needling at the tension between her shoulder blades. He could easily feel the way her muscles had seized with stiffness, and a sharp breath escaped her at his touch. Aram found himself working at the knots, starting from the base of her neck and inching his way down, slowly but surely pressing and kneading every knot in her muscles until he could feel them relax. Samar made no complaint; rather, with each knot worked free, and with each new inch of her skin that Aram began to run his hands over, she let out soft moans of sweet, satisfied relief.  

Steaming hot showers had always worked their wonders on her aching muscles after explosions past when she was alone, but this was  _ so _ much better.  

Aram twisted and shifted where he sat, just to reach her more comfortably... And then he leaned in over her, his hands sweeping softly up and down her sides, and his lips seeking her neck. He pressed a slow kiss there and Samar tilted her head further sideways, stretching to allow him better access. He obliged, all the while those thumbs continued working their magical, circular motion, gentle but firm all at once against her back. It was wordless, and not just because she was tired and her hearing was limited, but simply because no words needed to be said. Samar closed her eyes, entirely focused on soaking up the extraordinary sensation of his hands working the pain away. After a while, she grew quieter and quieter until not a single new hum of pleasure managed to escape her, and Aram allowed his fingers to come to a slow stop, resting along the curve of her hips as he curled around her instead.  

'Don't stop,' Samar sighed. Aram paused. He blinked, his eyes crinkling and his lip twitching with another smirk. Between those two little words, and all those satisfied noises that had been echoing from her throat, the first guess of anyone listening in wouldn't have been anything along the lines of a perfectly innocent cuddle and a massage to relieve the aches of post-explosion muscles. Samar opened a single, lazy eye –all that she needed, really, to fire a wry, raised eyebrow in his direction in response to the chortle that Aram was so desperately struggling to hold in. 'Shut up,' she grumbled, giving a good-natured eye roll. Just as she expected, her gentle jibe had the opposite effect, with Aram no longer able to keep it in and instantly starting to chuckle under his breath... But, his hands resumed that motion against her muscles all the same. 'And do that thing where you dug your thumbs into the small of my back again.'  

Aram bit his lip, knowing better than to start chuckling again. As funny as it was, and despite Samar taking it all in her stride, she was still exhausted and she was still in pain. Smiling softly to himself and nuzzling back into her neck instead, Aram did exactly as instructed, pressing his fingers deep into the worst of her aching muscles until she let out another sigh, relaxing back into his arms and allowing her eyes to fall softly closed again.  

'Thank you,' she murmured to him. The words, muffled by the bedcovers and overly quiet in the knowledge that her temporary hearing loss might accidentally cause her to talk too loud, were almost inaudible but Aram understood exactly what she meant anyway. He pressed another kiss to her neck, and then another, his lips creating a soft trail down her neck and along her shoulder until Samar broke into a sleepy smile.  
'Any time.' 

/*/*/*/* 

Day two of the case, and the first thing on the morning's agenda was to interview the princess rescued from the hotel the day before. Samar and Aram stepped into the war room, the heavy elevator doors rumbling closed behind them, and Samar moved straight for her desk chair. She wasn't in anywhere as much pain as the day before, but despite doing some gentle stretching after waking up and soaking up the relief of a steaming hot shower, her muscles were going to remain stiff and twinging for a few days. They had time to kill in the war room before the princess arrived from the safe house with her security detail –time that they were planning on using for going over evidence reports for any further leads they might have missed- but Samar was eager to take that brief half hour window sitting down, resting, before she and her tired, aching muscles were inevitably sent running in to the field all over again.   

Aram reached his desk within seconds of Samar reaching hers. He switched on his computer, quickly tapping away at his keyboard as he always did first thing in the morning to fire up the Post Office mainframe and run it through the usual, daily security scans, before rounding the desk corner and moving back to her.  

'Coffee?' He asked softly. Samar's lip quirked up with a grateful smile and she nodded, giving his hand a quick squeeze as Aram grinned and then scurried off to the break room. It took only minutes for him to return to her desk, with a mug in each hand letting out spirals of fresh steam from their caffeinated liquid gold contents, but by then Samar's exhausted, heavy-eyed gaze had already shifted to focus on those rumbling elevator doors again, revealing an equally exhausted looking Ressler emerging from within. 

He had been a few feet further away from the explosion than she had, but it had made little difference. Aside from Samar's perforated ear drum, he had taken all the same damage. His ears were still ringing from the volume, and his muscles still seized with pain from the force of having been blown off his feet and slammed against the ground. Ressler winced with every other step as he walked in, and Samar couldn't help but offer a look of sympathy as stopped in the centre of the war room and met her gaze. The smile he offered in return was half-hearted in his pain, but bore no lack of sincerity. They had both been right on top of the blast, and they shared the aches and pains that they both knew they were going to be stuck with for the better part of the rest of the week.  

If anyone thought the muscle stiffness immediately after an explosion was bad, they had no idea. It was the following day, after a full night of lying still, that was _ so  _ much worse.  

Slowly but surely, Samar rose from her seat. Ressler eyed her as she moved, his brow furrowing curiously at the way that, though she was clearly battling the muscle tension, seemed easier and less painful than him.  

'How are you not in pain after that explosion?' He asked. 'You were closer to it than I was.' Samar stifled a wry smile. Her gaze flickered knowingly for a moment to Aram who, just behind Ressler, began to cough into his shoulder in the awkward attempt to cover his splutter.    
'I must just have a better mattress,' she said, giving an overly nonchalant shrug, 'or something.' 

Ressler turned on the spot and glanced, unconvinced, at Aram but said nothing. Giving a quick shake of his head, he continued on towards the break room. 

Samar met Aram's gaze again. Her eyes crinkled and she broke into a quick grin as he handed over her coffee mug and she took the first, invigorating sip of that sweet elixir of life.  

'Or something, huh?' Aram mused drolly, as soon as Ressler was out of earshot. Amusement stretched easily from ear to ear across his face. 'I'll remember that the next time you get caught in an explosion.' He leaned in, the expression on his suddenly sobering to a more wistful expression as he kissed her cheek, whispering; 'just try not to do it too often.' 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to comment if you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> Also, I'm whimsyandsomething over on tumblr. My ask box is always open :)


	5. Compare and Contrast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5x05 missing scenes

Aram couldn't help but marvel at everything around him. All dread in relation to being a tall person stuffed in a crowded cabin with no leg room aside, he couldn't help but be excited. He had taken more than enough domestic flights before to understand the general experience of busy airports and squashy seats –goodness knows he definitely had the TSA's security screening routine down pat- but flying internationally was something he hadn't done nearly as much.

Especially not long haul.

Liz and Ressler had been able to snatch up the Bureau's private jet for their flight to Leeds the day before, not anticipating that their next lead would be on the opposite side of the continent... Which left Samar and Aram with an all expenses paid commercial flight to meet them in Belgrade the next day.

Which was to say, economy class. With the taskforce still under formal review, Cooper didn't want to raise any further potential red flags by pushing the budget for anything nicer.  

At the very least, and given the disclosure of their relationship, he had booked them one slightly larger hotel room to share when they arrived, rather than two small ones.

But for the moment, Aram was still excited, even when faced with ten hours of crossing the North Atlantic, only to stop over in Frankfurt for a few more hours before they could continue on to Belgrade. Making their way through the international side of Dulles airport had been slow enough without him fumbling over his passport at the thrill of actually being able to use it for the first time in a few years, but they had made their way to the gate for boarding eventually. For Samar, by contrast, the entire process was old hat. She had flown more than enough times all around the world with Mossad that there was little in any airport that could prompt her to even raise an eyebrow.  

She breezed through check in, baggage drop and passport control seemingly without a care in the world. There was no fumbling, no pauses to think of answers to unexpected questions, and no awkwardly looking for signage to figure out the right way to their gate. For only a split second her gaze flickered to the departures board to double check that their gate hadn't changed, but other than that Samar knew exactly where she was going, and it was almost as if she didn't even notice the trinkets in the tourist shops they went past until Aram pointed them out in amusement, prompting her eyes to crinkle in amusement at him in kind.  

Then there was the fact that they were traveling on FBI business meant that she could actually skip the security line for once –or at least, while they were still in the States anyway- and Samar couldn’t deny; that was certainly a nice change.

Traveling with him, rather than on her own or with her Mossad teammates was a nice change too. Though she would have normally preferred to stay in those hard, plastic seats at the gate a little while longer, waiting for most of the boarding queue to pass before jumping into the line that always felt as if it went nowhere, Samar found she had no qualms about letting Aram lead the way at boarding, grinning with the excitement of their impending adventure as he eagerly jumped into the queue as soon as possible. He didn't care that they stood around in the line for an extra fifteen minutes before their boarding passes were scanned and they were allowed onto the plane, nor that being two of the first people on the plane meant they had to sit around in those squashy seats for another twenty minutes waiting for everyone else to follow them on board before they could take off. Aram was excited, and that was that.  

It wasn't until Samar settled in her seat, pulled the flight's menu from the pocket in the back of the seat in front of her, and absentmindedly began to thumb through its pages, that she finally quirked up a curious eyebrow.  

'Which meal do you think you'll get?' She mused.  
'Hmm?' Aram hummed back. It took a second before he turned in his seat, shifting his attention from the entertainment system screen that he had been eagerly starting to peruse, and glanced at the menu she was holding up. She couldn't help but let out an amused smirk; traveling had long since ceased to be anything new and exciting for her, but Aram's boundless enthusiasm brought a certain joy back to the experience.  

'The chicken sounds good,' Aram observed, nodding contemplatively at the menu, 'though... We don't have to decide that now, do we? We won't get our meal for a couple of hours.'  
'True,' Samar murmured back, all too matter of factly, 'but it's always good to know what the person you're traveling wants, in case they fall asleep.' A knowing grin tugged at her lips, and she waggled her brow. 'Then you don't have to choose the meal for them or figure out whether or not to wake them up.'

Aram blinked. A look of awe slowly crept across his face. That was so simple, and so logical, and somehow that was all it took to solve the age-old dilemma. He had already known that she knew international travel like the back of her hand, but _that_ was the icing on the cake.  

'Just how many flights a year do you take with your Mossad team?' He asked. Samar simply chuckled to herself, neatly tucking the menu back in its pocket as she replied;  
'Oh, a few.'

/*/*/*/*

Sleep remained an entirely elusive concept –or at least, for Aram anyway. Between the dim half-lighting of the cabin, the narrow seats, and the constant noise and movement of other passengers around him, Aram couldn't sleep. Though, at only four and half hours into the flight so far –just short of halfway there- he remained hopeful that the tiredness would eventually kick in and he would drift off out of sheer necessity.  

In the meantime, the flight radar and stats channel of the in-flight entertainment system still had him entertained. It seemed ridiculous –that something as simple as a tiny, plane shaped blip moving at an agonisingly slow pace across the map on the screen in front of him would actually be so fascinating but still, somehow Aram couldn't take his eyes off it. Even in the odd moments here and there where he used the on board wifi to flick through emails and scroll through news headlines on his phone, he left the flight tracker running in front of him, with his eyes continuing to flicker up every few minutes to see how much further they had travelled and contemplate all the more technical aspects that allowed it to run the live feed in the first place.  

But most amusing of all, perhaps, was what stopped him from being able to move in his seat –neither to go to the bathroom nor to even shift slightly in the name of comfort.

Samar's head on his shoulder, sound asleep for the last hour and a half, and apparently not likely to wake up again any time soon.

She had sworn she wouldn't fall asleep, that the sense of alertness to all things around her that went hand in hand with being an agent pretty much always stopped her from being able to sleep surrounded by so many strangers in such close proximity. At most, she had said, when she travelled with her team they napped in short shifts, knowing that at least they had a teammate awake by their side and yet this time, there she was, out like a log.

Aram tipped his head, leaning it affectionately atop hers and not even trying to stifle the grin as he continued absentmindedly staring at the tiny blip in front of him. He took it as a compliment –of sorts- that she never would have fallen asleep beside him like that if she didn't trust him immeasurably.  

'Would you like the chicken or the fish?' The voice of the flight attendant  -trying to be friendly but clearly tired of plastering a fake smile across her face for the last few hours- made Aram's gaze snap quickly upwards from his screen.  
'Oh-' he reached forwards, hurriedly pulling down his tray table so as not to hold up the impatiently waiting remainder of the cabin '-the chicken, please.' In an instant, the tray full of food landed in front of him as requested. The faint smell of hot -though probably less than fresh- food wafted up his nostrils, making his mouth water. His stomach rumbled too in eager anticipation, despite having not felt overly hungry before. Aram blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion at the flight attendant still standing there next to him with a hint of a smile slowly etching its way across her face.  
'And your friend?' She asked, gesturing amusedly towards Samar still asleep beside him.  

Aram hesitated, breaking into a sheepish grin of his own.  

It took him a second to angle his arm _just_ right to reach for the tray table in front of Samar but without moving his shoulder so much that it woke her up either, but he managed it.  

He glanced back at the flight attendant, thanking the universe for Samar's simple but altogether brilliant strategy that meant he didn't have to worry for a second about waking her up.

'She'll have the fish,' Aram replied, giving a quick, pleased bob of his head. 'And a water for when she wakes up.'

/*/*/*/*

The Bureau's private jet was a world of difference from the crowded cabins that had brought them to Belgrade just two days earlier. The seats were wider, more comfortable, and they reclined... And even more amazingly, the cabin was _quiet._ Agent Calhoun was cuffed and seated in another smaller cabin behind a half wall, leaving the larger cabin for Liz, Ressler, Samar, and Aram alone.  

Liz dozed easily at one end, with Ressler sitting across from her, quietly tapping away at his laptop keyboard to catch up on emails and reports.  

At the other end of the cabin, tucked away in the corner, sat Aram. The look of delight that no commercial flight had seemed able to wipe from his face on the way over, was now gone. Instead, he stared absentmindedly out the Gulfstream's windows, a miserable frown contorting his brow. It was a look that had settled on his face ever since she had been shoved in the back of the CIA team's van, and had only intensified after the shootout in their safehouse.  

It was a look that had left Samar aching somewhere deep inside, knowing that he felt such shame and guilt over not being able to rescue her even though she had never expected him to.  

She crossed the cabin towards him after doing the latest check around the wall on Calhoun, that dull ache twinging again just at the sight of his expression.  

'You ok?' She asked softly, as she came to a slow stop in front of him.  
'I shouldn't have come with you,' Aram mumbled back. His voice was almost inaudible, and he couldn't quite meet her eye. Samar bit her lip, wincing as she lowered herself on the seat next to his.    
'Aram-' she tried to start.    
'-When everyone started shooting, all I could do was cower in a corner behind a barrel,' he went on over her. At last he lifted his head to hold her gaze, his voice rising with frustration at himself. 'When you were shoved into that van, I couldn't do anything to protect you.'  
'I was fine,' Samar quickly tried to reassure him. She let out a sigh, swivelling in her seat and taking his hand in hers when Aram simply shook his head. 'I _am_ fine.'  
'But what if you weren't? What if they weren't CIA operatives? What if they really were bad guys who were going to hurt you? They would have taken you and there would have been nothing I could do except watch without being able to stop it.' Aram's shoulders seemed to slump even further still, and he bowed his head again. 'All I did was get in the way.'  
'Liz and Ressler had it covered,' Samar insisted –albeit gently- but Aram remained unconvinced.    
'Three field trained agents are better than two with a tech trailing along behind like a liability,' he muttered to himself.

Samar glanced warily over her shoulder and across the cabin, eyeing Ressler still working away at his reports. This wasn't the conversation she wanted to have right there on the plane, in hushed undertones to try and stay out of earshot and maintain a slim shred of professionalism. It was a conversation she knew they _needed_ to have, and hadn't yet been able to in the whirlwind few hours between the shootout and returning to the jet, though Samar had been hoping it could at least wait until they were home and able to discuss it without feeling so confined, but... If Ressler had any idea what they were talking about, he was certainly doing a good job of pretending that he didn't.  

And considering the way that Aram's teeth were gritted together in the sort of determination that only ever went with him making some kind of significant decision, she was glad Ressler wasn't listening... Because there was only one decision Aram could possibly have made for himself given what had happened.  

'Aram, you don't need field training,' she urged. His gaze snapped back to hers in an instant, his eyes flickering with that split second of wondering how she knew what he was thinking, but ultimately remembering; Samar always knew.  
'Yes, I do,' he sighed back.    
'Why? What exactly do you need to learn?'  
'All the things that you do-' Aram gaped for a second '-that Agents Ressler and Keen do. All the shooting and I don't know... Driving. What kind of idiot works for the FBI and doesn't know how to drive?' The look on Samar's face softened at the vehemence in his voice. She knew he was beating himself up, but this was even more so than she had expected. Her fingertips clung to his, desperately trying to reassure him somehow.    
'I can teach you those things,' she said softly. 'I can teach you how to drive and I can take you down to the range to work on your skills. You're already allowed to carry a sidearm if you need to. You don't need full field training.'  
'Why shouldn't I do it?' Aram shot back. 'What's so awful about me wanting to keep you safe?'

There it was. One of the few moments where Aram could be stubborn. For the most part he was easy-going, content to do whatever would make everyone else happy, but when it came to the people he cared about most... There was nothing that could stop him from doing whatever he thought he needed to do to keep them safe.  

For a moment, Samar wasn't sure how to respond.

She paused for a moment, carefully considering her words.  

'I can protect myself,' she began, and Aram instantly grimaced. 'And... Once you've been in the field and done certain things, or seen certain things, there's no going back. You have this amazing ability to see the good in people, and to have hope in situations where the rest of us would swear all hope is lost. At one point you managed to save Liz's life because of it.' Samar dropped her gaze for a moment, unable to stop the memories of all the worst cases –Bureau and Mossad alike- that she could never unsee. They were images that would haunt her forever, and worse –they were images that had taken a battering ram to her faith in so many things. They had taken away a level of innocence that she had never known she had until it was too late.

And Aram was an ever glimmering light in the darkness of their world that needed never to be extinguished.  

'I don't want you to lose that like the rest of us have,' Samar added. The breath caught in her throat and she watched as Aram's gaze flickered past her to Ressler, and the small frown on Liz's face as she slept. 'There are too many things I've seen in the field that I wish I hadn't had to see, and I want to protect you from that.'

His eyes met hers once again, startled slightly by her wistful expression.

'And what if I still want to do it anyway?' He asked quietly.  
'Aram... I'm not going to stop you. I _can't_ stop you, even if I wanted to-' Samar let out a sigh '-just... Think about it?'  

She held his gaze, _pleading_ with him to forgive himself. Aram bit his lip, but nodded all the same. That much he could promise her; that no matter how much it meant to him to undergo field training, he would remember that it meant just as much to her not to do so.  

Samar tilted her head, resting it against his shoulder and curling into his side as best she could in those recliner seats. His arm wrapped around her in all of a second, holding her close as his mind began to wander. The tension began to ease from his shoulders, relaxing little bit by little bit the longer she stayed there, her presence all it took to calm him.

Whatever he decided by the time they landed, it needed to be calm.  

She needed him to be calm.  


	6. Unicorns and Liquid Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (barely related 5x06 pre-ep, because there was nothing much about this episode that stood out to me for Saram, except the way they were standing together so adorably close right at the start. So here's a reason for them to do that :P )

They were at an odd point in their relationship. Having been coworkers –and better yet, close friends- for four years before their relationship had grown romantic meant that there was none of that first date, getting to know one another awkwardness. They slipped into the routines of couplehood easily, carrying on from their already established solid ground to spending as many nights and enjoying as many meals in each other's homes as they did their own, leaving scattered trails of personal belongings behind them every time. It meant that after only just under two months, their presence in each other's lives felt as natural as it would if years had passed.  

And yet, there were some things that still went unsaid –topics of conversation that were exclusively reserved for more intimate relationships, that four years of friendship and only seven weeks of romance had never covered. It was almost startling when such topics crossed their minds, to suddenly feel awkward in the face of a painfully new relationship when usually, it felt anything but.  

It was simply a matter of trying to find that balance between the old and the new. 

And this was one of those rare days where it was strikingly apparent. 

Samar flinched, trying –and failing- to ignore the aches that seemed to radiate from deep within. Just like the way everything seemed funnier when ordered not to laugh, the pain was all the more overwhelming when she was desperate to keep it to herself. Aram had suggested dinner as both of them so often did, which more often than not became nights spent together... But Samar wasn't sure how to tell him that this time, sleeping together beyond the absolute, literal meaning of the phrase, was off the table.  

...Not that Aram was in any way the kind of man who would be bitter about that but as far as Samar knew, she had never met one of those unicorn-rare men who supposedly remained completely undisturbed by even the slightest mention of a menstrual cycle.  

And at only seven weeks in, with the last instance having not even come into conversation because it had timed perfectly with traveling away for a Mossad assignment, this was the first time she would ever have to mention it to him.  

But Aram, though he didn't know what exactly, seemed to know something was off. His eyes tracked her around the apartment, quietly and curiously trying to figure it out. It only took the slightest change –an unusual quietness, the dark, tired rings around her eyes, or maybe the smile that was partly forced for her cover- for him to know from the moment he had arrived at the front door, and it had him squirming, wanting to make her feel better somehow, but cautious to ask why.  

Normally that was something Samar loved about him but for once, it was unsettling. 

'Everything ok?' Aram finally –and  _ warily- _ piped up. Samar paused, stifling a wince as she turned from staring absentmindedly into the fridge, to glancing at him on the couch.    
'Why wouldn't it be?' She replied, keeping her voice casual.    
'You keep pulling a face-' another twinge of pain seared through Samar's belly, and she couldn't help but flinch '-that face.' 

_ Crap. _ She was caught.  

It wasn't as if she wanted to hide it from him entirely. He was a grown man and he was a significant part of her life. Samar knew better than to think they could get away with an ongoing relationship without ever having that conversation. 

...But Aram was so awkward, and with the belly ache and the tiredness already leaving her with a shorter fuse than she normally would have liked, Samar wasn't entirely sure she could be bothered dealing with said conversation right in that moment.  

'I rolled an ankle on my run this morning,' she tried to stall. Samar shifted her gaze back into that enthralling blue light of the fridge. 'It's still twinging a little, but it's no big deal.' Even without looking at him, she could feel Aram's eyes on her, glancing her up and down around the fridge door and contemplating that.    
'You're walking on it fine,' he observed, concern creeping further and further into his voice with every word. Samar closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a sigh.  _ Damn his stubbornness. _ 'Samar-'   
'-It's cramps,' she burst out, cutting him off. Samar paused, taking a breath to calm her tone from the frustration that was probably sharper than necessary. 'I took some Tylenol already, but the pain is so bad it only took the edge off.' It took a moment before she pulled her gaze from the fridge, not convinced that she wanted to see the look on his face that would inevitably match the sudden silence from across the room, but... When she did, there was no shuffling awkwardly on the couch. Aram's eyes weren't wide with horror or embarrassment at the revelation. He simply tilted his head, brow furrowed with concern and sympathy.  

'Do you have a heating pad?' He asked softly. Samar blinked, watching him rise to his feet from the couch and cross the room towards her. She had been so convinced that he would become flustered or stick his foot in his mouth in that sweet but amusing way he always did, that for a moment, she didn't know how to respond. Aram was so calm and unperturbed, the concern only etching its way further across his as she stared back at him, baffled.   
'Yeah... Well, I have a wheat pack, but-' Samar gestured nonchalantly at the pack in question, still sitting on the counter from when she had given up on it earlier, but her eyes remained fixed on him '-you're not running for the hills at the slightest reference to a period?' 

Aram hesitated, wariness tugging at his brow in the face of her apparent bewilderedness.  

'It's a normal, perfectly healthy bodily function that affects fifty per cent of the world's population at some point in their lives, isn't it?' Aram reached for the wheat pack on the counter, the awkwardness now finally kicking in as he then scuttled towards the microwave. 'It's nothing to be ashamed of.'   
'I'm not ashamed,' Samar spluttered, 'I'm just...' She gaped for a second, struggling to find the right words; 'used to guys who stick their fingers in their ears or who won't go near a tampon with a fifty foot pole.' 

The microwave beeped. Aram pulled the wheat pack out again and handed it to her, offering a small smile and a sheepish shrug. Samar blinked –for what felt like the second time in as many minutes. 

Apparently... Aram was one of those magical unicorns.  

Not that it was an _ unwelcome _ surprise, but... It was certainly one Samar wasn't sure what to make of. 

'Sit down with that for a bit,' Aram said softly. Samar did so, taking the pack from him and heading towards the couch, still in too deep a state of disbelief to protest, even when he moved seamlessly on to the next task; making her a cup of her favourite tea. 'What do you want to eat?'   
'Eat?'    
'Yeah.' Samar rested the wheat pack across her belly and then swivelled on the couch, raising a single, curious eyebrow at him still busily ambling around the kitchen the kitchen. 'I, uh, know it's not exactly the same for every woman, but... Isn't it a thing that you get hungrier than usual and crave something?' Aram added. His face lit up in thought, nodding in response to his own question; 'for Janet it was always in the few days leading up to it, and then she'd just go  _ crazy _ for PB and Js and-' 

'-Aram-' Samar's soft voice brought a pause to his awkward rambling and his feet all at once.   
'-Right.' Aram bowed his head, breaking into a sheepish grin. 'Over the top... Sorry.' Samar broke into a soft smile of her own; all Aram wanted to was be understanding and supportive, and her sheer surprise at his reaction had sent him straight back to his more typical awkward, flustered territory.    
'I was going to say...' She quietly began, 'it's sweet that you're not grossed out, and it's even sweeter that you want to make me feel better... But it's not like I'm actually sick.' Samar twisted on the couch again, pulling a cushion behind her back and letting out a deep sigh of relief as the wheat pack then seemed to settle perfectly into place. 'I'm fine. This happens every month and I'm used to sorting it out by myself. Plus-' a smirk tugged wryly at her lips '-I don't think Janet would appreciate you telling me all the finer details of her cycle.' Aram's face crumpled into a far more sobered expression, the grin vanishing from his face from an instant.    
'Right,' he said, bobbing his head, 'but... Just because you're used to having to do everything by yourself, doesn't mean you still have to.' His brow furrowed with concern again, but this time his eyes pleaded with her. 'If there's something I can do that'll make you feel better, let me help.' 

Almost as if making his point, he left the tea to brew on the counter for a second, taking the time to reach for her Tylenol and a glass of water and bring that over, leaving it on the side table next to her, ready for when she needed it again.  

'For me, the last few days are the worst, and...' Samar said softly as she watched him scuttle back and forth, before trailing off again. 'Chocolate chip cookies.' She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation at herself. 'I crave chocolate chip cookies.' Aram stifled a laugh, but couldn't stop the affectionate smile. He turned, poking his head into the pantry and instantly spotting the freshly opened,  _ large _ box of chocolate chip cookies sitting front and centre on the shelf right at eye level. 

Clearly, Samar had stocked up. 

Aram grabbed the box and scuttled back across the room, depositing it and the cup of tea on the side table as well.  

'What else can I do?' He asked, gently quiet and eager all at once.    
'That's about it, really,' she murmured back, 'then it's just a matter of waiting for the storm to pass.' Samar stifled a smirk; for all his genuine concern, Aram also seemed inordinately pleased with himself. She gestured to the space beside her on the couch, prompting him to join her. She curled into his side in an instant, resting her head on his shoulder and allowing her eyes to fall closed for a moment as he wrapped one arm around her, holding her close. Aram dotted a slow kiss to the top of her head. He might not have been the sort of ladies' man who had a new girl on his arm every other week, but he wasn't a priest either. Aram had been through enough relationships to not be at all unfamiliar with women's bodily functions and how incredibly unpleasant they could be. He was genuinely sympathetic; after all, if Samar was still in enough pain  _ after _ painkillers that she still curled herself into a ball against his shoulder now, he hated to think how bad it could have been if she hadn't had the box of Tylenol handy. Anything he could do to make her feel better –or at least, more comfortable- he wanted to do.  

Aram reached for the tv remote that sat on the arm rest, Samar opening a single, lazy eye and watching him navigate her Netflix queue with ease. That was one of the great things about their relationship having fallen into place so easily; the trust and the tenderness they had for one another already ran deep, and being in one another's presence put them instantly at ease.  

Aram ran the fingers of his free hand through her dark curls. 

'Action movie, or trashy flick?' He asked. Samar tilted her head, her eyes crinkling with a weary smile. She leaned in, pressing a grateful kiss to his cheek.   
'Action.' 

/*/*/*/* 

The pain didn't stop. It became a dull enough ache after a while that it was far from unbearable agony, but it certainly remained uncomfortable enough to make her sleep a restless one. Samar tossed and turned through the night, trying and failing to find a more comfortable position, but nothing seemed to help. She dozed on and off, her eyes flickering and her consciousness caught somewhere between waking up just enough to have a vague awareness of her surroundings even for the most brief of moments, but not enough to really do anything more than sigh and twist around until her eyes rolled closed once more.   

Dark, tired eyes fluttered open for what felt like the umpteenth time, at last caught by the light from the alarm clock that read 4:37am. Samar let out a groan, rolling over in the bedcovers and instantly regretting it as soon as the faint gleams from the streetlights outside glared into her eyes through the cracks in the curtains.  

Her alarm was set for 5:15 so she had time to go for a run before the usual routine of getting ready for the day and arriving at the Post Office by 7:30... With only 38 minutes to go, the painkillers from the night before having now completely worn off, and the light having woken her past the point of no return, trying to get back to sleep seemed futile.  

Samar rolled a little further, shifting her attention from the window to Aram sound asleep beside her. A sleepy smile lit her face and she shuffled across the bed, closing the fraction of space between them until her lips found his, pressing a soft kiss there. He had stayed close to her when they had gone to bed the night before; Samar shuffling across to him until her back rested against his chest, and his arms wrapping around her until the warmth of his hands rested across her belly, soothing the aches and pains –at least, for a little while, anyway. Her tossing and turning had ensured that neither his comfortable position nor his slumber lasted much longer than hers, but now... He was finally out cold.  

Aram wasn't so stupid that he hadn't known what he was signing up for when he had insisted on staying with her through the night, but that didn't stop Samar from feeling a little guilty about the fact that he was about to spend the day at work as exhausted as she was. 

She slipped out from the bedcovers, carefully and quietly so as not to wake him, and reached for her running shoes.  

Perhaps the extra half hour would come in handy. 

/*/*/*/* 

Aram woke with a jolt as his own alarm began blaring in his ears. He rolled over, eyes still slowly creaking open, and stared blankly across the bed.  

Samar wasn't there next to him, but that was nothing new. If anything, the fact that she wasn't there once again was a relatively good sign; it meant she was clearly feeling up to going for her morning run as she always did. But... What  _ was _ new, Aram noticed as his still half-asleep brain slowly kicked into gear, was the noise of the coffee machine coming from the kitchen. 

Normally, their routine ran like clockwork, and Samar returned from her run about five minutes  _ after _ his alarm went off, but in this case it seemed she was already back and moving around in the apartment. 

Aram pushed back the covers, furrowing his brow as he clambered out of bed.  

...Perhaps something wasn't quite right, after all.  

He stumbled down the hall, rounding the corner into the living room. Samar glanced up at the sound of his heavy, still asleep footsteps. She broke into a soft smile; Aram's hair stuck out in half a dozen different directions from the tossing and turning against the pillow, and his robe hung half open and wonky off his frame, revealing his pajama bottoms and bare chest. Aram rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn. Mornings were never his thing even on the best of days and Samar, for all her exhaustion, couldn't stop her dark-ringed eyes from crinkling with affection at the sight of him stumbling in. 

'Morning,' she greeted him.    
'Hey...' He offered a sleepy smile in response, crossing the room towards her. Aram sidled towards her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and buried his face into her shoulder. 'Are you feeling better?' The question was muffled, his voice vibrating against her skin, but Samar understood all the same. She closed her eyes, sinking back against him gladly.   
'About the same as yesterday,' she murmured back, 'the run helped, though.' 

Aram nodded thoughtfully against her shoulder. He allowed his eyes to fall closed for a moment... The tiredness seemed to weigh heavily against every inch of his body after the restless night, and he hadn't even spent it in pain as Samar had. He stifled another yawn, wondering how on earth she seemed more alive than he was. It took him a second, but then it clicked; her run had woken her up. Aram needed something like that –coffee, perhaps. Speaking of which... Aram's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing, his nostrils finally registering that smell lingering in the air around them, and his brain finally remembering the noise that had echoed in his ears when he had first woken up. He glanced over Samar's shoulder that he had just been resting on, staring blankly at what it was she had been standing there working on when he had helped himself to a morning cuddle. 

Coffee. 

Two fresh, steaming mugs of that sweet liquid gold, sitting right there on the counter in front of her.  

_ And... _ Aram's gaze panned across the counter... Next to the mugs were two plates and two small paper bags emblazoned with one very familiar logo.  

'Did you... Go to the bakery down the street?' Aram took a deep breath in, savouring the smell of fresh pastry mixing with that of the coffee, and allowing it to wash over him. If the scented air wafting around them was any indication, it was still warm to boot.    
'Mmhmm.' Samar turned her head to face him as she hummed, dotting a quick kiss to the soft stubble of his jaw still lingering close. 'I woke up early, and by the time I was nearing the end of my run they were just opening. I figured if I had to miss out on the sleep, I may as well make the most of it and pick up something nice for breakfast on the way past.'   

Samar let out a wry smile, leaning back into him –all the prompt Aram needed to nuzzle into her shoulder again. It wasn't as if stopping in at the bakery she was already going past was that much extra effort, but it certainly made trying to get the day started at least little less horrible. 


	7. Postcards and Lazy Sundays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (5x07 missing scenes)

Aram was moping. He was trying to at least  _ look _ like he  _ wasn't _ moping, but he was only partly succeeding.  

_ Another _ weekend's worth of their plans together, dashed. 

Samar moved back and forth through the apartment, perfectly calm but quicker than a more casual pace. It was only a short trip home from the Post Office; just enough to swap out a few things from her go bag before heading out again to jump on the private Bureau jet –this time, to Thessaloniki, Greece. Aram had followed her home, figuring that the sum total of a half hour was about all the time they would be able to share together in private for a few days, but after that point he had continued following her around the apartment, vaguely reminiscent of a little, lost puppy. 

Not that Samar blamed him, frankly.  

And while there was nothing much he could do to be particularly helpful, he  _ was _ making a point of not getting in her way either.  

Samar stifled a wry smile as a pair of arms attached to a warm body suddenly wound their way gently around her waist from behind. With half the contents of her bag scattered across the bed mid-repack, it was the first time she had actually managed to stand still for more than three seconds... And so Aram had picked his moment to strike.  

'What was that for?' She laughed softly, tilting her head so that he could nuzzle even further into her neck.  
'You looked nice today,' Aram murmured back, 'blue suits you.' Slow kisses trailed their way across her neck and over her shoulder as the words tickled her skin, and Samar allowed her gaze to flicker for a moment to the shirt she had just changed out of, now strewn across the end of the bed. It was a new one, the royal blue shade being something she loved but only seemed to wear on occasion. Aram had grinned in appreciation of the view from the moment she had put it on that morning and Samar had smirked back, immediately making a mental note to cycle the colour through her wardrobe more often... But that wasn't the reason for the impromptu cuddle right now, and they both knew it. He was deflecting.  

'Aram,' she coaxed him. Samar turned in his grasp, slowly drawing out his name with her voice quietly satisfied and seductive, but knowing enough to make her point all the same. She slipped her arms over his shoulders, gently pulling him to her lips instead.    
'This is going to be your third work trip to Europe in two months.' Aram furrowed his brow, managing to stifle the grimace, but not the anxiety in his voice. 'And that's not counting your travels for Mossad as well.' 

The wistful traces across Samar's face seemed to mirror his. Neither of them liked it when work forced them apart, even if it was only for a few days. The recent spike in cases demanding lengthy travel got in the way of the new relationship bliss that had them barely wanting to leave one another's side -and between that, and the vivid memory of Aram going with her to Belgrade only to watch her be thrown into the back of a van by a rogue CIA team, it was no surprise that he was anxious. He seemed to worry about her safety in the field even more so after  _ that _ incident. 

Suffice to say, that was at least part of the reason he wasn't going with the team to Greece this time.  

'I can send you another postcard, if you like,' Samar mused drolly, 'if it keeps going at this rate, you'll have a collection big enough to fill a whole book in no time.' She gave a teasing waggle of her brow. The one postcard she had sent him from the airport in Vienna during a stopover on the way home from her last Mossad assignment had been more of a whim at the time –more than anything to kill time between flights- but he had been so pleased when it arrived home a full week after she did, that the idea had stuck in her mind. The simple card with the few trivial, handwritten thoughts that essentially translated to 'I love you' and 'I miss you' meant more than either of them were ready to admit.  

Weeks later, it was still stuck to the front of the fridge. 

At face value, the notion of sending a quick love note was as warming as it was cliched and sickly sweet, but at the same time... Samar couldn't shake the idea lurking in the back of her mind that if anything happened to her while she was away, it was reassuring to know that her words would still reach him afterwards.  

Aram's face lit up as soon as the words left her mouth, but he quickly shook it off. What he was trying to say was serious, and she was deflecting just as he had. 

'Samar.'  
'I know.' A look of mock earnestness crossed her face. 'In all seriousness, I'm getting tired of being stuck on planes. When we don't take the Bureau jet, there's just not enough leg room.' Aram pulled a face. Samar tilted her head, finally offering him the tiniest of reassuring –and  _ genuine- _ smiles. It was taking everything Aram had not to say the words out loud. He wanted her to be careful... And come home safe. 'It's just a day or two while we sit in a van outside a store, watching Dembe,' Samar added softly. 'I'll be fine.' 

/*/*/*/* 

Samar let out a deep sigh of relief. Shower damp curls braided loosely over her shoulder, and fleecy hotel robe like heaven against her skin, she dropped lazily across the hotel bed. If nothing else, one positive to the taskforce traveling at Reddington's request was that he had booked them a suite  _ each _ at a luxury hotel just off Aristotelous Square.  

It was more than a little convenient that the five star hotel had exactly three luxury suites and all three just so happened to be available at late notice for the three FBI agents sent to work for his –admittedly noble- cause, and the artwork on the wall featuring the silhouette of a man in a hat was all too familiar not to give anyone who knew Reddington reason to suspect that the hotel owners knew him just as well... But after spending the better half of a day cramped in a small van with Liz and Ressler, Samar really didn't care.  

The ability to stay an extra night there even helped to salve the wound that was their flight home being delayed after Dembe changed his mind, choosing to return to the store and then continue on undercover towards Macedonia... Or at least, it salved the wound a little.  

So much for just a day or two in a van outside a store, watching Dembe.  

Now, after the few hours' worth of reprieve that was Dembe's jump across the border to meet Red in Bulgaria and back, they faced a return to the cramped van for a road trip to follow him. She, Liz, and Ressler had taken the opportunity to explore the area without having to be joined at the hip like they had been most of the day. They couldn't stray too far from the hotel or the square, but there was plenty just in those couple of blocks to entertain all three of them for a few hours.  

It hadn't been difficult at all for Samar to find a postcard, nor a few other amusing trinkets for that matter.  

Samar rolled over on the soft, white silk bed covers that she couldn't help but sink into, reaching for the card and pen she had set on the nightstand before her shower. 

...Perhaps the _ two  _ separate bathrooms attached to the suite was excessive, but the room was certainly one of the most comfortable she had ever stayed in during her travels for work.  

She sat up, resting the card against her knee. The pen clicked in her hand a few times, her lip quirking up in contemplation as she figured out what to write after Aram's name. 

_ 'We were supposed to get on the place home today. You'd think I'd remember by now that these trips away are never as simple as planned. _

_ We have a few hours to kill while we wait for Dembe. It's given us a chance to wander around, even if we can't go too far. I think you'd like Thessaloniki.' _

A smirk tugged at her lips, her gaze panning around that luxurious suite for a moment. 

_ 'Though,'  _ she added, _ 'it probably adds to the experience that we're staying in such a nice hotel.' _

The shrill ringtone of her phone began to sound from where it still sat, tucked in the pocket of her jeans on the smooth, light wood floorboards. She darted across the room, pulling it out and breaking into a grin at the sight of Aram's name flashing across the screen. He was calling from home, just as promised. 

_ 'My phone's ringing – it's you. I'll tell you about the square in a minute. _

_ See you when I get home.  _

_ Samar. Xx' _

One hand picked up the call just as the other put the finishing touches on the card. Aram's wide smile appeared on the screen in an instant.  

'Hey,' Samar beamed. Her dark eyes gleamed with a playful mischief. 'I was just writing your postcard.'   
'Oh?' It was impossible to miss the pleased curiosity that echoed in his voice. Samar quickly waved the card in front of the camera, visibly piquing his curiosity even further.    
'You'll have to wait until it gets there before you can see it,' she teased. Aram rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, but Samar only grinned even more. She slipped the card onto the table behind her, and turned slowly on the spot, panning the camera around the suite for him to see. 'But look at this room.' Aram let out a low whistle, his eyes growing wide with awe.    
'Reddington went all out,' he observed.    
'Mmhmmm,' Samar hummed back. She moved all the way around the suite, allowing Aram to see every inch. He made almost no sound as he took it all in, too dumbfounded by all the space, the jets in the tub, the bright, fresh orchids on the nightstand, and the exquisite ocean view from the window to be able to speak. Rounding her way back to the start, Samar dropped back onto the bed. 

'This robe is so soft, I never want to take it off,' she sighed. Aram's eyes crinkled, a grin of his own tugging at his lips.   
'From a cell phone camera it looks the same as every other hotel robe,' he observed. Samar paused for a beat before responding. She raised a single, wry eyebrow, and Aram did a double take. The realisation of his accidental implication dawned like a shadow across his face, but it was too late. Samar wasn't about to resist the opportunity in front of her now.  
'Are you saying I need to change the angle so you can see it better?' She teased. 'Because in that case, I  _ guess _ I could be convinced to take it off.' 

Without even waiting for a response, Samar lifted the phone ever so slightly higher, her free hand toying flirtatiously with the edge of the robe's neckline.  

Only the slightest of gaps needed to open up for Aram to see what he already knew. 

Underneath, there was nothing else.  

He shifted awkwardly in his seat, unable to wipe the sheepish smile from his face.  

Reddington's latest crusade may have deprived them of their plans for a rare weekend of no plans at all aside from sleeping in late, lazing about, and enjoying each other's company... But surely that didn't mean they couldn't make the most of the few hours' break that Dembe had given them, right? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, all the recent fluff comes to an end, for 5x08.
> 
> A few amusing sidenotes. Samar was indeed wearing a notably different blue top right at the start of that 5x07, so I couldn't resist mentioning it. 
> 
> When I was trying to figure out where Reddington would have the team stay, I looked at pictures from a few top hotels in the area just for the visual reference, and funnily enough there actually IS a luxury hotel there with artwork that looks scarily like Red. So of course, that had to be added in too.
> 
> Oh and, I got a bit sidetracked from writing this chapter by the idea of doing some edits of Samar's postcards. I'm hoping to make that a running thing every time she travels in this story now. After all, I have a year long time gap to fill between 5x08 and 5x09 so there'll be a few non-episode chapters thrown in to see what these two dorks get up to, and I imagine Samar will have a few Mossad assignments in that time. Let me know if there's anywhere around the world you'd like her to visit :D
> 
> Anyhow. Now, prepare for pictures.  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/gp/152300685@N03/F8ro5Y)  
> 
> 
> [](https://www.flickr.com/gp/152300685@N03/m0NB40)
> 
> [](https://www.flickr.com/gp/152300685@N03/o20080)


	8. All The Hope in The World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5x08 post-ep

Samar sat with her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. Aram sat beside her in those hard, plastic, hospital seats. They had sat there for hours, but it felt like barely minutes had passed since the medical staff had given them the last update for the night.

Tom was gone.  

Liz, after coming within a fraction of the same, was holding on... Though they had no idea if or when she was likely to wake up.  

Aram stared into the space in front of him, not really taking any of it in. He could hear Samar, in the quietest of voices, murmuring to herself. The language was one he recognised from his parents, though it was one he had never fully grasped himself. He could only make out bits and pieces of what Samar was saying, but that was enough for him to realise yet another level of gravity of the situation.

She was praying.  

For what exactly, Aram wasn't sure, but the fact that she was at that point at all said volumes. Samar was unwavering in her faith, but rarely overt about it in practice. He had never heard her pray before, but there was a distinct earnestness in her voice as she did so now.  

The words trailed off, and so too did Aram's attention. The clock continued to tick over and over, not that either of them really noticed. Ressler and Cooper had long since disappeared, likely to other seats in other corridors, each in search of their own quiet space around the hospital to try and process everything that had just happened in front of them. They had all stopped by the ICU at various points in time to sit with Liz for a little while, but they were isolated in their own headspace, too deep in shock to really register one another's presence.

The first round of tears had long since dried, leaving long, uncomfortable trails down their cheeks.  

At some point or another, hospital staff members tried to help them out of their seats and move them along for their own benefit as much as everyone else's, but Samar and Aram barely registered their words either. Staying there didn't change what had happened, nor would it wake Liz up and somewhere in the backs of their minds they knew it, but that didn't stop the tiny voice deep within that made it feel wrong to leave. They found themselves rising from the seats after another round of prodding, and walking side by side, their feet carried along what felt like hollow shells of themselves to the back of one of the Bureau SUVs that they had arrived in originally, while another agent led them along, eventually driving them home.  

Not a word was shared between them.  

Somehow or another they worked their way into Samar's apartment as the first glimmers of daylight cracked through the dark clouds of the early hours. Shoes and belts and ties loosened their way to the floor, but there was no energy to change anything else. Still otherwise fully clothed, they collapsed atop the bedcovers without even trying to shuffle underneath. Aram stared up at the ceiling without really looking at it at all. Samar rolled into his side, one arm draping across his waist as she buried her face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, hot tears streaming freely from her eyes once more and rolling down her cheeks until they soaked into his shirt and his into her hair in kind.  

They drifted off out of sheer exhaustion after too many hours of consciousness. They barely moved from that position, crumpled around one another and looking almost more shattered than they felt.  

The hours of the day passed by all around them, not stirring either one of them for a moment until mid-afternoon.  

A car alarm sounding somewhere down the street made them both begin to drift back into the waking realm. Throats and eyes felt dry, and cheeks felt sticky from those trails of tears, but still they clung to one another, and it took the rumbling growls of hungry bellies and the desperate screaking of bladders to finally convince either of them to move apart.

Words still seemed to escape them at first. After all, what was there to say to one another after witnessing what they had?

Showers and coffee -albeit still in stunned silence- was a start in the bid to feel human again, but after that came the sense of helplessness. Simply going about their lives now felt as wrong as leaving the hospital the night before, even though it was just as necessary.  

Aram stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring aimlessly at the pantry and then the fridge, but at a loss for what to eat. He had a vague awareness of Samar moving around not far from him, but he took little notice of what she was doing until her quiet voice found its way to his ears.  

'What do you want?' Aram looked up, brow furrowed quizzically until he spotted her standing, shoulders slumped as miserably as his, in front of the tv with the remote in her hand.  

Noise. They needed _some_ kind of background noise to break the miserable, deafening silence that the apartment was drowning in.

'Not the news,' was all he could murmur back. God, he wanted anything but the news. The last few hours had been miserable enough without hearing the latest headlines about the world falling apart around them. Samar gave a slow, contemplative nod.  
'One of those comedies you like?' She suggested. Still, her voice was quiet, her mind only partly lingering on the conversation at hand. A second later and Samar shook her head, setting the remote back on the coffee table, leaving the tv off. She wandered over to the iPod dock on the end of the counter, switching one of their usual playlists onto a quiet shuffle instead.

Comedies just seemed far too cheerful for the moment.  

Aram pulled the container of pasta leftover from the previous night's dinner out of the fridge and slipped it into the microwave, taking only little comfort from the familiarity of its slow hum as it began to whir before his eyes. Around him, it was almost as if Samar was reading his mind. She reached into the cupboards and drawers for bowls and cutlery, setting them on the counter ready for when that slow hum came to its beeping pause. Aram pulled the steaming container from the microwave and within a second of him starting to scoop it into the bowls, Samar was ready with the cheese to sprinkle on top. Even without words, even in their current state of being lost in their own thoughts, they remained in sync.  

At least that was some kind of a comfort.

They hesitated for a moment before plucking their bowls from the counter. Samar leaned into his side, sinking into him for that extra second as his arm wound its way around her and his soft stubble brushed against her cheek.  

'Have you ever experienced that before?' The mumbled question was almost inaudible, the quiet words cracking in Aram's throat.  
'Someone dying?'  
'Not just dying... But watching them die right in front of you, wounded like that.'  
'Aside from my parents...' Samar trailed off for a second, steadying herself. 'Yeah. One of my Mossad teammates-' she took a breath, wincing at the memory '-in Cairo, when I ended up in the ICU. He went down only two seconds before I did and I had to watch him, unable to stop it because I was trapped under the blast rubble and too badly injured myself to get out.' Her shoulders tensed in an instant at that visual flashing before her eyes. As always seemed to be the case for the worst memories, it was painfully clear –almost vivid in fact. Even if only for a second, she could hear those screams again; the seemingly endless white noise of her team and all the civilians around them knocked down by the force of the blast they had been trying to stop. They building had come down crumbling on top of them, trapping her by the legs, chest, and one arm but leaving her with an unlimited view of the rest of the bloodshed. Her teammate had been only a few feet up the sloped ground from her, unconscious and _just_ out of reach, the dark red flowing free from between pieces of rubble and pooling on the ground so close she could smell it.  

All she had been able to do was focus on her breathing and keeping her own heart rate calm before everything had faded to black for her as well. It was all that had made the difference between her bleeding out past the point of no return before anyone had come to her rescue, and only just managing to hang on.  

...But that sight of the mangled bodies all around her, however fleeting, was one that was now burned into her memory forever.  

Aram's fingers slipped their way between hers, jolting Samar's attention back to the present. Without even realising it, her other hand had bunched into the side of his shirt so tight that her knuckles had paled, but she took a breath, allowing him to work them free –for his own comfort just as much as it was hers.

'How do you get that image out of your head?' He asked quietly. Samar bowed her head, leaning it further still against his chest.    
'With time,' she sighed back, 'a lot of it.'

Aram couldn't shake the image from his brain... Of Liz and Tom fighting for survival from their brutal injuries right in front of him. All any of them had been able to do was stand there, watching, frozen to the spot. He had been through the grief before of knowing someone who had died –loved ones, old friends, even co-workers like Meera who had been killed violently in the course of their jobs- but this time there was one key difference. This time, he he'd had to _see_ the pain slowly steal a life away –and only narrowly fail, in Liz's case. All the debate over the years about the rollercoaster of Liz and Tom's relationship suddenly didn't matter. To witness that death and then _Liz_ almost following suit, with all the violence that had wreaked such havoc on their bodies, had rocked Aram to the core.  

It took everything he had to force his mind not to allow that memory to mingle with the anxieties he already had about Samar working in the field, and then replace the visual with one of her fighting the same fate.  

He could only hope that she was right, that with time the image would fade... But, it was time that just didn't seem to pass fast enough.

Aram tipped his head, pressing a soft, slow kiss to the tangled mess of dark curls that Samar was too tired to even attempt to tame, before they finally pulled themselves apart. Moving to sit opposite one another at the table, the bowls of pasta prompted none of the mouth-watering enthusiasm from them that it had the previous night. Only their bodies' sheer need for fuel pushed them to wearily poke at it with their forks. To a certain degree, all Samar wanted was to go back to bed, to drift back off into unconsciousness and be free from reality for a little while longer, as if that was all it would take to fix the devastated misery that felt like it was suffocating them both.  

Her phone began to beep, the screen instantly flashing bright with the arrival of new information and reluctantly, Samar reached across the table for it.

'Cooper's put together a roster,' she read, as the message opened up, 'one of us to sit with Liz every day. Reddington's on today.'  
'Ressler tomorrow?' Samar didn't even look up from her absent-minded staring at the screen for a moment, not that she needed to. Just from Aram's voice she could tell that he too, though listening and responding, was back to staring half-heartedly into the void.    
'Yeah.'  
'And Agnes?'  
'With Reddington,' she murmured back. Across the table from her, Aram gave a contemplative, but still satisfied, nod.    
'When do you think she'll wake up?' Finally, and _slowly,_ Samar pulled her gaze back to him, meeting his eyes. She bit her lip, the earnest anxiety on his face mirroring her own. They could have all the hope in the world, but that didn't change the doubt in either of their minds... The doubt that neither of them even wanted to think about, let alone voice;  
'I don't know if she will.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooookey dokey, now we're in time jump mode. At some point I'll probably throw in a reference to that single, two second scene Samar and Aram were in during 5x09, but now other than that we're going to have a few chapters of what the dynamic duo get up in the year or so gap before 5x10. 
> 
> I might even throw in a little snippet of Aram's field training :D
> 
> Comments are love, folks! Please don't forget to leave one if you're enjoying the fic so far :)


	9. How Was Your Day, Dear?

Samar stared through the one way glass that was unnervingly reminiscent of the interrogation rooms. Her focus slipped back and forth as she only half paid attention to what was happening on the other side of the glass. The other half of the time her mind spent wandering, going off on tangents from where she was to reflecting on how on earth they had got there in the first place. 

The Post Office was shut down. Guaranteed it was temporary, but given that its operations weren't going to start up again until either Liz was ready to return or Reddington could be convinced to carry on their work without her, the rest of them were on leave with no indication as to when it would end.  

Cooper had all kinds of ideas about what they could do in the meantime if operations didn't resume as soon as he hoped, though every last one of them seemed to stall. He was in denial as much as the rest of them, and trying to move on without Liz just felt plain wrong.  

At the very least, they had the bare minimum of two weeks off to grieve.  

It brought out a strange sense of solidarity in all of them. They were all quiet, not really wanting to talk to each other in favour of losing themselves in their own thoughts, but bearing no judgement towards one another when they accidentally snapped. After all, they were all in the same boat.  

The fact that Tom had died just one day before Thanksgiving did little to help the situation either.  

Every festive plan seemed to go flying out the window after that. With Tom gone, and Liz still comatose with no sign of waking in a hurry, everyone's organisational efforts went into his funeral instead. It was impossible to decide what made it harder to make the arrangements; the time of year significantly limiting their options, or the fact that Liz wasn't there to make the decisions. Tom had so few people in his life and she was the one who had known him best. It left the rest of them to their best guesses, and trying to give Tom the service that Liz would have wanted. Even Ressler struggled to voice any objections for once. After all, funerals were for those left behind and grieving, more than they could ever be for those who had gone. Everything they did, whether she was there to see it or not, was for Liz... As if somewhere in the backs of their minds, the idea lingered that throwing everything they had into planning the service, would somehow bring her back to them.  

After the service, the few attendees had splintered off into their own groups for their own attempts at a wake.  

A tired, half-hearted, and quiet meal together, both to reflect and to at least try and make up for their missed Thanksgiving dinner, was all the team could muster before making the most of their time off to go their own separate ways for the season.  

Christmas came and went, and so too did the turn of the new year.  

At the hospital Liz continued healing, but remained unconscious, with their roster of sitting with her silent form each day continuing on with a stubborn determination.  

In the meantime, and with the Post Office still shut down, Aram threw himself into field training. Between that, and Samar still working with Mossad on the side, all of a sudden they went from working together every day to barely working together at all.  

It bothered her. He wasn't the worst in his training group, but he wasn't anywhere near the best either. He was somewhere in the middle, holding his own and passing so far, but not at all spectacularly. He had no idea she was there, watching at a distance and from behind a one-way glass window, while he worked through his latest field training exercise; chasing and tackling suspects around an obstacle course. Physical pursuits were not Aram's area of expertise, and it showed. It was as if he had two left feet, and the knowledge that the people he were chasing were innocent, fellow trainees rather than suspects made him slow and hesitant to throw as much force behind his tackling. It bothered Samar to watch him struggle with his own guilty conscience –his internal dilemma of either using more force or failing the training he was so determined to undertake. It left her with an ever twinging mix of sympathy and regret that twisted her stomach into knots. This was precisely the sort of thing that had her initially not wanting him to start field training in the first place, but she had _so_ desperately needed to see how he was going now that he had.  

He knew that as much as she was supporting his decision, she was also reluctant, and he had come from training every evening tight-lipped about his progress, leaving their evening conversations little more than small talk or awkward silence. In a way, they both knew that the real reason Aram was taking on field training was more for his own self-reassurance in the wake of everything that had happened than anything else, but he still didn't want to tell her how he was going in case somehow, it wasn't good enough. Again, that was Aram's own anxiety rearing its ugly head and insisting that he had something to prove, but still it stuck. His training days were for himself, and he would tell Samar all about them when he actually finished the course.

...When his certification was officially signed off and he had something that _he_ felt he could be proud of.  

So as curious as Samar was, she didn't push the issue with him. Instead, she used her badge to slip easily into Quantico's training facility and watch from a distance with his assessors, only for a half hour or so once every other week, just so she knew in exactly which areas he needed a subtle confidence boost at home.  

She was mostly sure that these were the desperate times that supposedly called for such desperate measures.

Mostly.  

It didn't escape her either that what had happened to Liz was everything that Aram worried would happen to her in the field one day too. After all the times that she had smiled affectionately at him but dismissed his anxiety on the inside as he asked her to be safe before she went away, it now struck her just how right he could have been.  

It was the kind of reality check they both needed but neither of them really wanted. It sat there, lurking in the backs of their minds with both of them knowing that it never needed to be said. It was yet another reason Samar stood back, leaving Aram to take to his training however he liked and only talking about it as he needed to; before everything else, he had wanted to do it for her. To keep her safe after feeling that he couldn't. And suddenly, those fears were now validated.  

Still, Samar was sure that she could take care of herself and that Aram should avoid the field if he could, but after what had happened to Liz, well... She was far less willing to argue that his field training wouldn't be at least a little helpful.  

Samar let out a sigh, watching Aram stumble over his own feet as he ran.

But he kept going. Instead of falling flat on his face, he recovered his step with the stumble making little more than a lopsided jump in his stride. He charged forwards, reaching out with both arms to tackle his latest training partner down over the foam mats on the floor and pulling his hands back into imaginary handcuffs. Samar raised a single, curious eyebrow; it was far from smooth but it had been one of his best tackles yet, and Aram knew it. Through the glass, and in the distance, she could see Aram bite his lip, and an ever so slight hint of contemplative pride lit his face as he gestured to his partner, ready to go again.

At least that was something.  

Nodding slowly to herself, Samar turned from the window, heading for the door. The trainers in the observation room offered her small smiles of acknowledgement as she moved, but no words needed to be shared. She slipped through the door and the rest of the facility like a shadow, barely noticed by anyone all the way to her car, which was exactly how she liked it.  

Just under an hour was enough. The rest of the day was Aram's to keep to himself if he wanted to.  

/*/*/*/*

The front door clicking open caught Samar's attention and she rose to her feet in an instant. She paid no attention to the folders and pages of old reports cluttering down around her to the floor, the coffee table, and all over her laptop. Instead, she turned her gaze to where the entry hall met the living room, watching as Aram walked in, with a bag of fresh, delicious smelling takeout dangling from his fingertips.  

'Hey,' Samar softly greeted him, 'how was training?' Aram broke into the tiniest of weary smiles, crossing the room and setting their bag of dinner on the kitchen counter where she already had plates out waiting for whatever he brought home.    
'Not too bad,' he murmured back. Samar eyed him for a moment; there were faint dark rings around his eyes, and his shoulders slumped a little. He was exhausted and worn out after the full day of training, and after just the hour or so of it that Samar had seen, she wasn't at all surprised to see him so tired. Field training was designed to challenge even the best and fittest of recruits.

Despite the fatigue though, Aram seemed satisfied with himself. It sent a wave of relief rolling over Samar and she smiled back. Clearly, the rest of his day had continued going well after the last tackle she had seen.  

That certainly made a nice change from the last few times he had come home from training.  

As soon as she reached his side, he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and buried his face into her shoulder. Deep contentment right there pulled a sigh from him and Samar bowed her head, stifling the growing affectionate smile spreading across her face as she quite happily allowed him to sink into her.  

'Lots of physical training exercises today?' She mused.    
'Yeah.' His quiet voice tickled the bare skin of her shoulder around the straps of her tank top. 'It's not my favourite, but at least I don't have to go back tomorrow.' Aram nuzzled in further still, pressing a slow kiss there. 'I missed you today.' Samar steadied herself for a second. If only he knew that at one point, she had been all of thirty feet away, hidden behind one way glass.    
'I missed you too,' she whispered back.  

Silence fell between them. Aram's eyes fell closed, resting them for a moment against her shoulder. Leaving him to it, Samar tugged open the takeout bag on the counter in front of her, peeking inside.

Paco's Tacos. Of course.  

Samar's smile widened even further. Paco's was Aram's good mood food. If he had picked up Paco's of all the potential dinner choices on the way home, then that was yet another sign that though his day was exhausting, it had been a good one.  

'We're back on the firing range on Thursday, and they've scheduled me for another driving test on Friday morning before I go to the hospital to see Liz.' Aram's voice remained low, his mind clearly wandering elsewhere as he spoke. Samar raised an eyebrow, but didn't interject. That was the most he had told her about field training in one conversation since he had started the entire program. 'Can I practice with you tomorrow?'  
'Sure.' Another kiss –quick but grateful this time- landed on her shoulder, and Samar tilted her head, resting it softly against his.    
'What did you get up to today?'  
'Not much,' she murmured back, keeping her tone casual, 'a few meetings for Mossad things, and then I tried to catch up on all the paperwork we were supposed to do before the Post Office shut down. Did you get Ressler's text?'

If Aram took any notice of the quick change of subject, he certainly didn't let it show. Not that she was in any way lying –she had, after all, been to a few meetings- but Samar wasn't about to let him know that she had stopped by to watch one of his training exercises _between_ those meetings.  

'Mmhmm,' he hummed, head nodding sadly against her shoulder, 'no new developments from the hospital.' His arms seemed to tighten protectively around her, and Samar found herself gently squeezing his hand in kind. Weeks had passed. None of them had honestly believed that Liz would still be so deeply comatose at this point, and now the lack of progress was seriously starting to wear them all down.    
'We should visit Agnes on the weekend,' Samar suggested, tugging their dinner from the bag. She turned on the spot, offering Aram a smile of thoughtful, wistful amusement. 'You can put on your tiara and have tea with her again. I think she'd like that.' Aram bowed his head, contemplative smile of his own lighting up his face.    
'Yeah,' he murmured back, 'I think she would.'

At last he unwound his arms from his impromptu cuddle, reaching instead to help serve up the food. Samar studied the look on his face, watching his eyes begin to wander absentmindedly again.  

Visiting Agnes would be great for their goddaughter... But after a long few weeks maybe, just maybe, it would do wonders for them too.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are with the start of the time jump! 
> 
> For those of you who are unfamiliar with how I deal with the time jump in fics, here's a quick note; Tom's toe tag in 5x08 was dated November 22, 2017 (the day before American Thanksgiving) so I take 5x08 as happening then. That means when Liz woke up ten months later it was late September 2018. If we factor in a few months of rehab before she went off to Alaska, plus the way 5x09 was depicted as being the middle of winter, I think of everything from 5x09 onwards as happening exactly a year after its airdate. Which is to say, 5x09 aired on January 3, 2018, so in my timeline it happens in early January 2019. Make sense? 
> 
> Which then means I have a giant time jump to cover o.o I'll throw in a few things from canon –Liz waking up in September, for example. Her flashback in 5x09 to drinks with the team was set after she woke up but before she went to Alaska, so I'll fit that in there somewhere. Likewise, in 5x15 (aired early March 2018, so I'm setting it early March 2019) Samar and Aram mentioned going to Aram's family's Thanksgiving, so I'll put that in for November 2018. And so on, and so forth. 
> 
> (Sidenote, my beta has also requested that at some point, I write Aram in a tiara, tutu, and fairy wings, having princess tea with Agnes. It might happen. Maybe. We'll see :P )


	10. The Misadventurous Cliches of Valentine's Eve

The sound of shot glasses clinking as they all landed back on the bar at once was one that seemed to echo through the room. The feeling of tipsiness was as extraordinarily pleasant as ever, but even as Samar broke into a carefree smile, she knew it wouldn't last. Her Mossad team's yearly Valentine's Day Eve rebellion was in full swing –one of the rare events that they, as a whole group, had somehow managed to pull off every year without fail. Birthdays, service award celebrations, and even faith related observances they always _tried_ to catch up with one another outside of the usual work hours –and _didn't_ always succeed- but it was the annual celebration of the day that rubbed their career choice straight back in their faces that never failed to bring them together.  

Not even the fact that a small handful had indeed managed to hold down some kind of relationship deterred the team from their night out. There were eight of them there and only three, including Samar herself, currently had anything even vaguely resembling a solid relationship but those lucky few came along anyway for the sake of the others. That was a record.  Even back when she and Levi had been together for that short while, the total had never been more than three of them in the team at any one time. The odd work hours, ever changing locations, and the sheer secrecy of what they did left them almost destined never to have any kind of significant other or family.

But they had each other, and that was something that they all cherished.  

Samar cast her gaze around the group of her Mossad teammates that surrounded her now; they weren't the youngest, newly trained recruits anymore. Now, countless years later, the tradition of rebelling against Valentine's Day instead of letting it tear their spirits down held up as strong as ever, even though the same couldn't necessarily be said for their alcohol tolerance. As they all grew older, each year they didn't quite party as hard as the year before.  

This time around, they were a fair few drinks in already, but they had already agreed that food was next on the agenda before any more.  

And so, that warm buzz inside that had them all so cheerful and pleasantly relaxed for the moment, wasn't to last as long as it once did.  

Slowly but surely, their meals trickled one by one out of the kitchen and landed in front of them. Ezra's first, then Isaac's and Eli's, and then Levi's meals appeared. The bar was unexpectedly packed, and struggling to keep up with the sheer volume of food orders going through. The first half of the team tried not to eyeball the plates piled high in front of them with delicious food, preferring not to tuck in while the rest of them were still waiting, even though they were all ravenous.  

They were a team. They worked together, trained together, and for some assignments, even lived together –even if only temporarily. Eating together, especially on that night of nights, was no different.

Except, as the bar staff seemed to maintain a steady jog in and out of the kitchen and all over the bar, trying to get orders out to everyone who had ordered all at once, only Orli's meal joined the other four. Samar held in a grimace, eyeing the way the rest of her team were shifting uncomfortably in their seats.  

'Just start eating,' she suggested, offering a reluctant smile, 'don't let it get cold.' There was a pause, where the gazes of the five with meals flickered cautiously to the other two without, silently seeking the same permission until both gave short nods of agreement. Samar gave a small sigh, shifting her attention back to the ever revolving kitchen door.

Ten minutes passed. And then another twenty. The movement of staff in and out seemed to slow until no more food came out at all, and all the patrons seemed to calm, settling into their meals and turning drunken mingling into proper, sit down conversation... But still, those last three meals never came.  

Levi glanced down at his now almost empty plate, pulling a face. His jaw clenched, his brow furrowed, and he looked up at her, holding her gaze with a flash of sympathy and guilt. Samar knew that face. She had seen it all too many times before not to recognise it in an instant; that was the face he pulled when he was irritated on her behalf and if she didn't stop him, he was going to make a point of righting whatever he felt was wrong. Had he known that her meal wasn't likely to come out shortly after he started eating his, he probably would have saved her some, but now it was too late... And that left only one option.  

'I'm going to see what the hold up is,' he muttered from beside her, the growl barely restrained in his throat.    
'They're probably still just cooking the last few,' Samar murmured back, 'give them another five minutes.' Levi raised an eyebrow, and Samar simply shook her head, letting out another sigh. Her warm, pleasant buzz was fading away, leaving her too tired to be bothered arguing with any of them. Taking that as his cue, Levi slipped off his bar stool and faded into the crowd quickly forming again around the tables. It was as if everyone in the bar had the same idea at precisely the same time; meals were done, and so it was back to moving around, chatting away and ordering more drinks all over again.  

From the other end of their row, and having missed where Levi was off to, Ezra took the waitress clearing their plates as his own cue to order them all another round. Within minutes, another glass landed barely an inch from her hand. Samar clasped her fingers around it, raising a single, skeptical eyebrow but lifting it anyway. No sooner had that familiar taste reached her lips, than Levi re-emerged from the crowd. A thunderous scowl was etched across his face, instantly setting off a pang of dread in Samar's gut.  

'They had so many orders go through the kitchen that they mixed up all the slips of paper,' he said, through gritted teeth. 'The cook thought he'd done them all, so he finished up and left. The kitchen's closed.' Samar winced, glancing at the clock on the wall at the far end of the bar. There was just under a half hour until closing, and even before she'd had that latest drink, she'd had too many to drive if her meal wasn't coming out as planned.  

Which meant only one thing; even after Aram had been so understanding when she had wanted to spend the night before Valentine's Day with her team –and notably without _him-_ she was going to have to ask him to pick her up... And not only that, but to ask him to pick her up, she was probably going to have to _wake_ him up too.

Samar shifted her gaze, glancing all around the bar. Her two teammates who also hadn't received their meals were already pulling out their own phones to find a different way home for the night, and so too were the rest of the bar's patrons _just_ starting to make their way to the exit. Levi caught her eye, sympathy furrowing his brow. He opened his mouth to speak again but Samar shook her head, stopping him before he could even get the words out.  

She knew what he was going to offer, but there was really no point. He lived at the opposite end of town from her, and trying to win his fiancé back again was a delicate situation. Driving her home on Valentine's Eve instead certainly wasn't going to win him any brownie points, no matter how ridiculous it was not to do so.  

Her phone slipped from her jacket pocket, fingers already fumbling around the touchscreen and bringing up Aram's name before Samar's feet wobbled ever so slightly in the movement off her stool. She ducked towards the corner of the room –only slightly less loud than the rest of it- pulling the phone to her ear.  

'Hey,' she said softly, as Aram picked up.   
'What's wrong?' His sleep-muffled voice hurriedly came back through the line. Samar's eyes crinkled, and she let out a small smile. Even as drunk had faded into tired which was now fading quickly into something far more dopey, it was hard _not_ to smile at the way his voice already sounded so worried despite his only half-awake brain still catching up.    
'Nothing,' Samar murmured back. She paused for a second, trying to steady herself so that her words didn't start to slur together; 'but can you pick me up, my love?' It took a moment before Aram responded, and while he was still processing that, it didn't click in Samar's brain either that she hadn't used that term of endearment for him before.    
'Didn't you drive there?' The question blurted through the phone, Aram's voice still riddled with half-asleep confusion.    
'I did, but...' Samar let out a sigh. 'I'm probably not safe to drive home again.' The whole story could wait. For now, all she really wanted was just to go home and sleep. Preferably curled into his side.  

She blinked. Huh. Either the alcohol could talk in her thoughts as well, or it was reminding her that they had fallen _well_ into the routine of spending more nights together than not.  

Somehow, that pulled at the small smile on her face even more so, as Aram replied;  
'I'm on my way.'

/*/*/*/*

Sleepiness faded fully into dopeyness right as the bar called closing and a steady stream of rain began to pour outside. Samar stood just inside the door, watching and waiting for Aram to arrive.

Thankfully, at that time of night, the roads were far from busy.  

Aram poked his head around the door, prompting a smile to instantly light up Samar's face all over again. His hair stuck out in a dozen different directions and if anyone looked close, they might have even pointed out that Aram's shirt was on backwards in the hurry to jump out of bed and get to her as fast as possible, but Samar barely even noticed those details. She hopped off the small stool by the door, outstretching her hand for him in greeting and almost losing her balance in the process, but she didn't notice that either. She was focused on him, and the sheer relief of seeing him there. Her affection for him mixed with the volume of alcohol she had on board was a combination that suddenly woke her up again in an instant.

A protective arm wound its way around her for a moment and a soft, tired kiss landed on her cheek as Samar reached Aram's side and began the short walk back to the car parked only a few spots down the street.

The rain trickled down over them, but only softly so. Without even realising it Samar stopped, gazing up at those tiny droplets until they splashed against her drink-rosied cheeks.

'What are you doing?' Aram asked. He stopped in turn, just two steps ahead and turned quizzically back as her sudden pause pulled her from his arm. Samar furrowed her brow, staring back at him blankly as if wondering why on earth he would ask such a thing.   
'Feeling the rain,' she replied, drunken grin breaking through her matter of fact tone. Aram bit his lip, struggling to hold in a laugh. Whatever the reasoning, it clearly made sense in her mind.    
'It's the middle of the night and you want to stop and feel the rain?' The laugh of amazed disbelief escaped him right at the end of the question as Samar reached out around her with both hands and then tilted her head back further still, allowing the rain drops to cascade over every inch of her.    
'It feels nice,' she murmured, still staring up at the clouds so far in the distance above her, 'it's more than just an annoying sprinkle, but it's not coming down too hard either. It's just... Refreshing.'   
'Well, when we get home,' Aram mused back with a wry smile, 'you should try this magical thing called a shower, where you can enjoy that feeling without your clothes getting in the way.' Samar's gaze snapped back to his, and the smile on her face widened even more so.    
'That... Is a great idea.' She reached forwards this time, resting her hands along his jawline and falling just short of pulling him towards her. 'I love how smart you are.' It took everything Aram had not to roll his eyes in amused exasperation. He tilted his head, dotting a quick kiss to her lips. Just that split second was enough to taste the alcohol on her breath.  
'I love you too,' he chuckled softly back, 'but please get in the car?' Samar lingered there for a moment, the neurons not firing as quick as they normally did given her current state of intoxication. Finally she bobbed her head in agreement and pushed clumsily past him towards the passenger side door. The force of her tug fell short and though the door clicked unlocked, it fell softly closed once again, almost toppling Samar over as the handle slipped from her grip. Aram found his arm shooting out in an instant to catch her. He gave a quick shake of his head, helping her into the car instead.

Samar drunk wasn't something he thought he would see, let alone find so funny, but it was certainly going to make for an interesting Valentine's Day.

/*/*/*/*

The late morning sunshine cracking through the bedroom curtains streamed painfully into Samar's flickering eyes as she rolled over, squeezing them hard shut again in the half-hearted attempt to block it out.  

'Morning,' Aram's voice felt as if it were pummelling her eardums like a drummer in a rock band making every possible effort to wow the crowd at a concert. His voice was far too cheerful and his footsteps against the floorboards were like thunderclaps strolling into the room.   
'Mmmmmm,' was all Samar could groan in response at first, 'not so loud. I feel like my head is about to explode.' She opened her eyes again, slower this time, and stared blankly around the room, watching him lower himself slowly onto the edge of the bed beside her. She blinked, her brain still catching up with her sight. 'Am I in your apartment?'   
'Yep.'  
'How did that happen?'  

The bemused smile on Aram's face vanished, replaced quickly by his brow furrowing in sympathy and concern.   
'You were out with your Mossad team,' he said softly. Samar began to nod, and then quickly stopped. Just the slightest movement had her head _pounding._    
'That much I remember,' she grimaced.    
'You had a few drinks, thinking that if you ordered food early enough it would arrive before you got too tipsy.' Samar frowned in confusion; she remembered that part too, but everything after that was blank.    
'...Did it not?'  
'The kitchen closed and they cancelled your order-' Aram scowled for a split second at the thought '-but not until after you'd had a few too many to drive home. You called me to come and get you. I took an Uber there, and drove your car back.'

'Thanks,' she murmured. A weak attempt at a grateful smile tugged at her lips, but Aram wasn't fazed. He watched quietly, an affectionate smile on his face and one arm hovering forwards for support as Samar forced herself to sit up in the bed. The colour drained from her face instantly, tinting her cheeks with an uncomfortable shade of grey-green. Her stomach lurched, and Samar groaned under her breath.  

Her team might have liked to celebrate Valentine's Day Eve with gusto, but usually they were better at pacing their drinks with food. She hadn't woken up feeling that awful after a night out in _years._  

And while it was useful right in the moment sometimes for undercover operations, it never helped the next day that she had the sort of high alcohol tolerance to only just start feeling tipsy by the time she'd already had enough to feel slightly queasy the morning after. By the time she'd had enough to be wobbly on her feet –as she'd had the night before- she was just about guaranteed to have the pounding headache in the morning too.

Aram's fingertips gently brushing the loose hair back off her face and tucking it back behind her ear, jolted her attention back to the fact that her eyes had fallen softly closed again. They snapped open, gazing wearily back at him.  

'Are your hangovers the kind where you're repulsed by food, or where food makes you feel better?' He asked, voice low.    
'Both,' Samar murmured back, wincing, 'I just force it down.' Another flash of sympathy crossed his face, and Aram leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.    
'I'll start with coffee then.'

/*/*/*/*

A shower, coffee, a few pieces of toast, some aspirin and moving _slowly_ kept the headache at bay as it could, but the rock band drummer inside her head wasn't what made Samar feel the worst. It was the guilt, the knowing that while the night before was time for her teammates, Valentine's Day itself was the day she had wanted to spend with Aram. It was their first Valentine's Day together and though she hadn't been anywhere near as enthused as him when it came to making a fuss of it, there had at least been some inkling of joy at not having to spend it alone for the first time in years.  

But after the debacle of the night before, her hangover was really dampening the mood of the morning... Not that Aram really let it show. He doted on her as he always did, insisting that she take it easy and bringing her whatever she needed.

On the flip side, and what Aram found most amusing of all, was that when he put on a few favourite episodes of Doctor Who at a low volume, she was too busy dozing on and off to even notice. It wasn't until mid-afternoon that the ache seemed to dull to something more resembling dull background noise and her eyes flickered properly open once again. She was curled into Aram's side on the couch, her head tucked comfortably against his shoulder as if she had fallen asleep there with his arm around her, and he had made a point of not moving since just to let her rest. Samar shifted against his side, brushing a quick kiss against the soft stubble of his jaw. Aram's arm around her tightened in response, his thumb stroking gently back and forth against the side of her waist.  

'Hey you,' he murmured, burying his face in her hair for a moment. 'Feeling better?'  
'Getting there.' Samar smiled softly back. She pushed herself to sit up properly, glancing around the room. For the first time all day, she actually felt at least half-alive.  

...Which was finally enough to remember what she had planned for the day, after all.

'When we came back last night, where'd you put my purse?' She asked. Aram raised an eyebrow, but gave a quick nod, gesturing to the handbag hanging neatly from the hook on the wall in the corner of the room next to his coat and his messenger bag. 'I have something for you,' Samar added. She rose slowly from the couch, pausing for a moment as she stood as if testing herself for steadiness and any remaining drumbeats in her head. The limited remains of her hangover made only minor protest, and so she darted across the room towards it.    
'I thought we agreed no presents,' Aram mused, watching her quickly rummage through the bag. 'It's only our first Valentine's Day.'  
'Don't think of it as a present then,' Samar countered, breaking into a wry smile. 'Think of it as more of a...' She trailed off for a moment. All the way down at the bottom of the bag, her fingertips found their target and grasped it tight. '…Relationship milestone that we're probably overdue for.' Even as she spoke, and even more so as Aram furrowed his brow and let out a curious smile, Samar rolled her eyes. She was the one who had insisted on no presents, if for no other reason than the fact she knew that if she didn't, Aram would go completely overboard as he so loved to do. But, even she couldn't let their first Valentine's Day go by completely unmarked... And with the sheer amount of time they spent together now, that particular gift seemed only fitting. Samar watched his eyes tracking her hand pulling free of the bag, and the way his brow seemed to knit with further curiosity still at the way her fist encapsulated whatever it was entirely. He blinked, contemplating that for a second...  

And then his face lit up with realisation –or at least, perhaps, a guess.

Aram's eyes met hers, and the smile on his face spread wide from ear to ear.  

'Well if that's allowed, I have something for you too,' he grinned. Ducking quickly across the room from the couch towards his home desk, Aram pulled the top drawer open –almost too hard in his excitement. It took all of a second for him to rummage through the contents and retrieve what he was after, pulling out something tiny that fit entirely in the palm of his hand, just the same. Samar's gaze dropped from the goofy grin to whatever was hiding just past his fingers...

Surely, they couldn't have _both_ had the same idea.

Samar pursed her lips, eyes crinkling. Slowly but surely, her fingertips uncurled, and Aram's did the same.

Almost as if mirror images of each other, small, affectionate chuckles escaped both of them as they watched the object being revealed in the other's hand.

_Apartment keys._

Samar took the few steps across the room back to him, her hand reaching towards his to press one tiny sliver of silver to his palm and then take the other. She traced the patterned edges of his key with her thumb, taking it in. Her stomach did a flip. This was finally happening. After months of spending more nights together than not, after all the postcards, and all the worrying about each other. After the rollercoaster ride of watching Liz nearly die in front of them, and all the words it made them too afraid to say to one another, it was finally happening. And Aram wasn't going overboard, or making a joke –not that she had thought he would. He'd had the exact same idea, for the exact same day.  

Somehow, that made it all the more meaningful.  

'I figured it was about time,' she said softly. Samar slipped her arms over his shoulders, pulling Aram towards her until his forehead rested against hers. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her there in blissfully wordless agreement.    
'Happy Valentine's Day,' he whispered back. Samar leaned in, kissing him again.  
'You're going to let me make dinner with you, right?' Her voice was quiet but droll, and the grin on Aram's face turned sheepish, just as she knew it would. He wanted to make her dinner, but this was _their_ day, not hers.  

Nothing else about their first Valentine's had gone as planned, but at least they had dinner... And that was something they were going to do together.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello, folks. I know I have asked this probably way too often and you're probably tired of hearing it (frankly, I'm tired of having to keep asking too because I feel like it annoys everyone) but seriously, if you are actually reading this fic and want more of it, please do remember to comment!
> 
> Trying to find the free time in my crazy schedule to write fics is getting harder and harder, so there's just no point stressing myself out and trying to write it if nobody wants to read it. Your comments are the only way I know you're there. <3


	11. The One Missing Element

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A snippet of Aram's fairy tea party, as requested, with a sneaky reference to _Castle_ thrown in.

'Hey Liz,' Samar murmured softly. Pausing in the doorway of Liz's hospital room, she stared in for a moment. It was quiet.  _ Too _ quiet. A private, long-term room in a private, long-term ward, ensured by Reddington for Liz's safety, the beeping of the small handful of monitors and machines was the sum total of the noise. There were none of the alarms going off, no wheeled beds rushing back and forth, and no medical staff or anxious relatives barking orders or wailing in distress like the Emergency Rooms they were all better used to. It was quiet. It was eerie. Every time Samar walked down the main corridor of that hospital wing for a rostered day of sitting with Liz, even her own, soft footsteps seemed to echo in her ears like the drumbeats of a private rock concert inside her head.  

What felt like endless months on now, Liz was still there and still motionless.  

Every visit seemed more depressing and more hopeless than the last. 

Letting out a slow, deep breath, but trying to force a hopeful smile, Samar ambled on through the door, lowering herself into the chair by Liz's side. 

For all the quietness of Liz's private ward, at least the chairs were cushy and comfortable. 

'We miss you, Liz,' Samar spoke quietly again. She reached out, taking Liz's hand in hers and giving it a tiny squeeze. All she could do was hope that somewhere in there, Liz could hear her... That even though she couldn't respond, somehow it was helping. 'Trying to get cases out of Reddington at the moment is like pulling teeth,' she continued, 'and then when we do, it's weird without you, for us and for him. He gives us just enough cases to keep the taskforce together officially, but around that...' She leaned back in her chair, letting out a wistful sigh. 'We have more free time than I've ever had before, and I should probably enjoy it, but... I'd much rather have you back with us, Liz.' 

Everything felt wrong without Liz, just as it had on that first night in the hospital. 

Going on with life as normal felt wrong. Making the most of the extra free time felt wrong. Sitting around doing nothing instead just felt plain disrespectful to the Liz voice they all swore they could hear inside. No matter what they all did, nothing quite felt right. 

Samar stared back at Liz's silent form in front of her. It was impossible to know what to say anymore that she wouldn't have already heard a thousand times from their collective visits. Telling her about cases, about Agnes, about their own personal lives... Sometimes they read to her, sometimes they played music and hummed along quietly under their breath. Aram even liked to muse aloud about computer theory or strategies for new Xbox games, less so for Liz's understanding and more because talking through his thoughts aloud seemed to help organise them. There was that innate need to fill the silent air between them, but finding things to fill it with was a struggle. 

'We spent a day with Agnes last week,' Samar quietly went on, 'while Reddington was here with you. He was going to leave her with her nanny for the day, but we figured we hadn't seen her in a while.' The tiniest hint of a smile tugged at Samar's lips, and she reached into her purse, pulling out a piece of paper covered in the colourful scrawls of an almost three year old. 

/*/*/*/* 

**_ONE WEEK EARLIER..._ **

The second Samar knocked on the door, they heard a delighted squeal from behind the door. 

_ 'Uncle 'Ram, Uncle 'Ram!'  _ Agnes' gleeful voice seemed to deafen them to the point that Samar and Aram exchanged wry smiles, already pitying Reddington and Dembe who were inside and likely had the squeal at even closer proximity and far higher volume.  _ 'Uncle 'Ram is here.'  _ The sound of tiny hands clamouring at the other side of the door, waiting far too impatiently for someone bigger to open it, only made them grin all the more. The door swung open, and Agnes' tiny body charged forwards, her entire body weight and then some colliding with Samar's legs with an  _ oomph _ that almost unsteadied her feet.    
'Hey kiddo,' Aram chuckled. Still wrapped all the way around Samar's leg and apparently clinging on for dear life, Agnes tilted her head back, grinning up at her godparents with glee. Aram crouched down, reached out with one hand to gently tousle her dark pigtails. He pried her from Samar's legs and scooped her up easily, the little girl giggling all the way up until her bright blue eyes were level with theirs, and even more so when Samar leaned in, sandwiching the little girl as she dotted a quick kiss to her baby cheeks.  

Dembe stood back from the door, offering a quiet, wry smile of his own as he gestured for them to follow him inside. They did so, and almost immediately Agnes began to wriggle in Aram's arms. He lowered her back to her feet, watching her eagerly scamper forwards... But Samar's gaze tracked further ahead, struggling to stifle the smirk at the plastic, bright purple table across the room, set up with matching, colourful plates, mugs, utensils, and tutus, tiaras and fairy wings thrown lackadaisically all over the equally tiny stools.  

Aram had promised her a fairy princess tea party, and Agnes had taken him at his word.  

'Thank you for offering to spend the day with her,' Reddington's voice sounded quietly in her ears. Samar turned, glancing across the room and spotting the older man emerging from another room and crossing the space towards her. There was a tiredness that sat heavy under the eyes that seemed to wander with wistful contemplation rather than meeting her own. It was far from new. The seemingly endless months without Liz giving even the slightest sign of regaining consciousness was wearing all of them down, but the Concierge of Crime himself was among those taking it especially hard. 

His gaze flickered to Aram already perched -almost comically, given his height- on one of Agnes' tiny, plastic stools, grinning with amusement as the little girl bounded around him and then clambered over his knees to set a tiara atop his head until it was perfectly lopsided. Samar smirked affectionately at the sight, her eyes crinkling with amusement. 

'From the moment she woke up this morning, she started asking when you both would be here,' Reddington's quiet voice added. Samar shifted her gaze back to where he now stood beside her, noting the small smile quirking up at the corners of his lips. 'That innocent excitement over such a seemingly simple thing is something we should all be blessed with.' 

Samar opened her mouth to voice her own quiet agreement, but no words found their chance to escape before Agnes' tiny hands suddenly tugged at her own. 

'Come ooon,' the little girl impatiently prompted, 'Aunty Samar, you  _ gotta _ sit down before your tea gets cold.' Fairy wings pushed their way into her spare hand and somehow, at the table on the opposite side of the room, a hot pink tutu now stretched to its limits around Aram's waist to match his tiara. A snort of amusement sounded from Reddington beside her, but Samar could barely manage to respond let alone glance back again to eye the smirk etching its way across his face, before another sharp tug on her hand pulled her towards the table where Aram could barely manage to keep a straight face as he took an over-dramatic sip from his plastic mug.  

Samar sat across from him, wobbling precariously for a moment on the tiny stool that almost brought her knees to her chin. A tiara landed on her head and another pointed prod in the arm guided the shoulder straps of the glittering fairy wings quickly into place.  

Somewhere out of the corner of her eye, Reddington and Dembe gave a short wave before bowing their heads and ducking hurriedly out the door. 

'You want sugar in your tea, Uncle 'Ram?' Agnes beamed up at him, waving one of her colourful spoons over his mug.    
'Uh, no thank you,' he quickly replied, shaking his head. Samar bit her lip, stifling the laugh at the way his lip twitched with sudden, feigned seriousness as Aram leaned in, offering a conspiratorial stage whisper; 'do you have any sugar-free pixie dust instead?' 

/*/*/*/* 

**_PRESENT..._ **

'Agnes insisted on drawing this while we were there,' Samar said softly. She paused for a split second, her eyes crinkling with affectionate amusement at the memory. 'And then she made me promise to bring it to you.' She turned the page around, almost as if to show Liz the jagged line of colourful stick figures that they had helped her decorate –eight larger ones, with one smaller figure in the middle, holding their hands, labelled with all their names; Agnes, Mommy, Daddy, Uncle Red, Uncle Dembe, Uncle Ressler, Uncle Cooper, Uncle Aram, and Aunty Samar. All in a row they seemed to stand on spiky grass with colourful flowers and an inordinately large sun shining happily down on them.  

It was bittersweet, to a certain extent. Agnes was hopeful in a way that had long exhausted the rest of them, certain that her mother would eventually return. The little girl's boundless energy was one of the rare few things left that kept the rest of them from losing hope entirely. 

Samar shifted in her seat, leaning the picture against the vase of flowers on the table beside the bed. She smiled softly at it for another beat, making sure that it stood just so.  

For a moment, she glanced back at Liz again as if, somewhere in the back of her mind, she half hoped that the drawing alone would prompt some kind of response. Samar sighed, shaking her head at the silence. Really, she knew better, but there was something about Agnes' hopeful innocence that was contagious. 

'You missed out on the Bureau Gala last week,' she spoke quietly again. Samar sat back in her seat, sinking into that cushy backrest, as a wry smile tugged at her lips. 'Not that the Gala itself was fun,' she added, rolling her eyes. 'It was about as uptight and stuffy as they always are, but trying to make our own fun was entertaining.' 

/*/*/*/* 

**_THE PREVIOUS WEEKEND..._ **

'Do we really have to be here?' Samar muttered under her breath. The lights in the ballroom were glaring, not at all giving off the sort of elegant ambience that one would expect in such a place. The deep blue gown she had only worn once before on a Mossad assignment and then abandoned to the back of her wardrobe for a year and a half was nice enough –and even Samar had to admit, getting dressed up wasn't something she got to do all that often- but unlike the crisp suits of her _ male  _ co-workers, it relegated her service weapon to an uncomfortable thigh holster rather than the usual one on her hip. 

They were surrounded by directors and assistant directors, chiefs, generals, and all kinds of other, much more highly ranked job titles whose invitation to them was far less an actual invitation than it was an order to spend their few, precious free hours still in each other's company, but notably without pay.  

In short, it was the annual FBI Gala, where representatives of every division, department, and taskforce had to show their faces and feign nice as if that were even more important than arrest statistics when it came to proving why they should each keep their jobs. 

'Director Cooper says we do,' Aram said simply, giving a nonchalant shrug. Samar raised a single, curious eyebrow, glancing at him by her side. He had stepped it up a notch from his usual work suit, adding a waist coat and a pocket square, and even having combed his usually wild hair.  

'It just seems a waste of our time,' Samar murmured back, 'to stand around making small talk and pleasantries over shrimp cocktails and champagne with higher ups who don't really care what we do so long as it makes the Bureau look good.' Her eyes narrowed, thinking back to Liz in the hospital. 'Especially when the agent who brought us all together isn't here.' 

'Half of them probably don't even know she's unconscious, let alone the fact that she has been for months.' Ressler's voice echoed in her other ear, quiet but no less disgruntled. He too, cleaned up even nicer than usual, but the look on his face made no effort to hide what they were all thinking; the entire event seemed trivial and unnecessary in the wake of what had happened to Liz and more importantly, it just didn't feel right to have a fancy night out –even  _ if _ it was under orders- when Liz was lying unconscious in a hospital bed with no indication of waking.  

Aram bit his lip, glancing back and forth between both of them.  

'I would rather Agent Keen was here with us too,' he said softly, 'but everyone here is looking to make budget cuts, so if we want our taskforce to stay together while Liz is still in the hospital, Director Cooper says we have to make a good impression.' Aram's jaw set, determination focusing in his eyes with a sudden spark. 'We should take a team photo when Director Cooper gets here,' he quickly added, digging into his pockets for his phone. 'For Liz.' 

Samar's eyebrow raised again, and she caught Ressler's eye. Skepticism shone across both their faces under the bright ballroom lights, but only for a moment. Ressler bowed his head, and Samar nodded in defeat, both of them breaking into the small smiles of knowing Aram was right.  

If they had to be stuck there, they should make the most of it. 

For Liz. 

/*/*/*/* 

**_PRESENT..._ **

Samar smiled wistfully down at that photo printout in her hand for a moment. It was easily one of the nicest photos of their team together –not that there were many others to compare it to- but that meant little in the scheme of things. As nice as it was, and as much as they were all smiling, the photo was missing one key element; Liz. 

She shifted in her seat again, propping the photo up against Agnes' drawing until they both stood there neatly, side by side.  

It wasn't much, but it was something to brighten up that deathly silent, drearily depressive room at least a little.  

Samar turned, refocusing her gaze on her teammate as she rose from her seat.  

'We're with you always, Liz,' she murmured, giving Liz's hand another gentle squeeze. 'Please, come back to us?' 


End file.
